


Change of Plans

by JuneJulySeptember



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fitting In, Flashbacks, IncrediblySlowBurn, Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda) Fluff, Love is hard when you're saving the world, M/M, Mild Language, Minor Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda), OCs - Freeform, PlayingwithReincarnation, Racism, SomanyZeldaCharacters, SurpriseRelationships, Worldmixing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-07-11 14:13:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15973979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuneJulySeptember/pseuds/JuneJulySeptember
Summary: A crisis necessitates the breaking of tradition. Wisdom and Courage are bestowed on two unconventional vessels and a classic Zelda story with one dynamic alteration unfolds. Precursor to BotW."I may be new to—to magic and the Triforce lore and…” He huffed in exasperation “… and sudden, unexplained—and honestly questionable Goddess decisions—but one thing I’ve always known, is that where someone comes from has shit to do with what they’re capable of.”





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story is my first attempt at a longer fiction. It can be dark and violent at times as well as (hopefully) exciting and light. Primarily, my aim is to create something new, that’s engaging for Zelda fans to read, while still capturing the essence of the franchise.
> 
> I always appreciate feedback, so let me know what you think!

 

Link's vision tunneled. He expertly dodged another ball of billowing purple flame then focused on his imposing adversary. Ganondorf was just a man. Link had trained his whole life in preparation to face him. And yet the Hero trembled. 

Vaulting over another projectile, Link dropped into a hurried roll and then bounded back up, avoiding Ganondorf's physical attacks with tense, jittery muscles. He might be in shock.

There was no warning. No preamble, no spectacle to warn Link and Zelda of their enemies arrival. They had been in the Royal Library studying, patches of warm sunlight from the high vaulted windows creating lazy dust mots on the gloss wood tables. When suddenly, shouts of pain and fear began to eco down the stone corridors.

They had immediately raced to the source of the noise only to find a bloody and horrific scene. Dozens of Sheikah guards lay dead or dying and the two skidded to a halt right in the doorway of the large antechamber. When he caught sight of their shocked faces, the tall, dark skinned man had slowly and deliberately drove the point of his sword into the chest of a soldier lying prostrate at his feet. There was a smirking twist to his lips that had Link whipping out the Master Sword and Zelda launching a preemptive magical assault on the villain before they had even exchanged any words.

After the the initial shock abated somewhat, the thrill of true combat began rushing through Link. There was a series of rapid exchanges as he and the dark warrior observed the other's style. It was unlike any battle Link had ever fought. So disjointed from the steady rhythms of training that Link was gasping and trembling from the sheer tension of it. It was jarring, uncontrolled and graceless battering. The Princess was off to one side of the grand stone antechamber chanting—small bursts of colorful light erupting from her body—the two were working in tandem to hold Ganon off. And they were succeeding.

Several minutes into the fight and the imposing, dark skinned man had already acquired numerous small injuries that seemed to be adding to his fatigue from fighting off the princess. Zelda, with hundreds of well-studied spells at her disposal, was systematically breaking down Ganon's magical barriers, siphoning away the bulk of his magical power that would otherwise have been directed at Link. The Hero for his part hadn't been hit once.

But Ganon didn't seem the least perturbed.

That realization sent another wave of fear coursing through Link as he ducked in close for a swipe that the larger man barely blocked. The Dark Warrior's strategy didn't make any sense. Previous reincarnations always either arrived with armies, killing thousands before ever facing the bearer of Courage directly or sent someone powerful to test Courage, and Hyrule, assessing strengths and weaknesses before entering the battle arena himself.

This time he struck suddenly and he came alone.

Invading the castle, Ganon had immediately began killing indiscriminately and loudly. The uproar he created had given Link and Zelda just enough time to gather themselves and race to the source of noise. Why give them time at all?

Sweat dripped into the hero's eyes as he lined up and released an ice arrow followed by a fire arrow in rapid succession. They collided directly over Ganon, creating smoke and noise and sufficient commotion for Link to follow up with a direct sword attack, but he didn't. Rather, as soon as the smoke cleared, Ganon was treated to a barrage of bomb and boomerang assaults with only a few intermittent but well placed sword strikes as the smaller warrior snuck in close. The dynamic strategy had the imposing Gerudo staggering.

Link moved, panting, his nerves on edge. This was too easy.

Histories had not prepared Link for what his enemy was actually like. The Gerudo was tall and wide chested but not brutish or monstrously large like in many depictions. The man had a surprisingly young face. Thirty maybe. He moved with ease and grace that bespoke powerful muscular control and his regal countenance reminded Link ironically of Hylian monarchs, whose portraits were scattered along these very walls.

Why was he still fighting them?

Though he was visibly panting with exertion, the warrior continued to smirk, as if enjoying a game of tag with children. If he was toying with them, what could he have to gain by letting them injure him? And more importantly, what was coming next?

The grip on his blade clenched tight as Link circled Ganon slowly, anticipating. The other man held a massive black blade loose in his hands, casually twirling it; head cocked back slightly, dark eyes assessing Link. Then Ganon's cursory gaze flicked towards Zelda.

Without really meaning to, the green clade warrior sprang to the right, partially blocking the princess from the Gerudo's sight. In response, a wide, malicious grin spread across Ganon's dark face.

"You two always seem to find each other." There was something unreadable and pronounced in Ganon's eyes that contrasted smartly with the taunting smile below. Link frowned. "And you're both quite strong, already. Much more prepared than in previous rebirths." There was a shift in the air near Ganon; a dark cloud of purple magic began to form.

A twitch in Link's forehead was beating in time with his rapid pulse.

Ganon went on, "Unfortunately for you, I've also done some extramarital preparation."

Then, instead of tossing the ball of purple magic, the larger warrior hurtled his sword forward. Link tried to block it but the weapon wasn't aimed at him. It whistled past him, curving in an unnatural arch around Link. Who whorled around in time to see a dark, alien form—almost human—materialize from the sword and immediately begin bashing at Zelda's hastily erected shield. Her chanting cut off abruptly.

A wrenching in his gut told Link to protect Zelda but he grit his teeth and twisted back to face Ganon. Link had been fighting with Zelda long enough to know she could handle herself. Not to mention a massive, dark cloud had begun collecting all around Ganon, lighting up his smirking face with an erie purple glow. With Zelda occupied, there was nothing to prevent the Gerudo from using all his power on Link. And the older man was obviously ready to take full advantage of that.

Link dove to the side as, for the first time, he was thrown completely on the defensive. One after another magical assaults rushed towards him and he barely managed to avoid his own redirected bombs in his haste to dodge and counter the attacks. Waves, balls, and lightning strikes: the manner of the dark Gerudo magic was varied, unpredictable and unrelenting. Link grunted as he was forced into an ungraceful roll, eyes on Ganon.

There had to be a way to get close.

After what could have been minutes or hours of desperate dodging, Link heard an unfamiliar male cry and Zelda's dark opponent fell prostrate on the floor. The being was mostly black with a diamond pattern to his flesh that contrasted sharply with a shock of white hair. What really drew Link's eye was the bright orange diamond at the center of the creature's chest, which to his experienced eye screamed weakness.

"To ME Ghirahim!" Ganon's disapproving voice commanded as his dark hand stretched out and the entirety of the creature on the floor seemed to collapse and shrink in on itself as it sped to its master's hand. Returning to the recognizable form of a hulking black sword.

Purple fire laced his leg and Link staggered with a hiss. Where had that come from?

It was just a distraction, a flick of the wrist before, blade in hand, Ganon launched towards the princess.

Red erupted in Link's vision, drawing an instinctive cry from the hero as he leaped to intercept.

His blade met Ganon's massive weapon just shy of Zelda's magical shield. She was already chanting again.

Ganon's gaze was full of a dark humor and his confidant smirk made Link growl in irritation.

They struggled for a moment before the Gerudo slowly, deliberately, released the hilt of his blade. He peeled back one finger at a time and it remained in place, steadily bearing down on Link's trembling arms.

"You never win the first battle," Ganon said with satisfaction. "You always scurry away to gain undeserved gifts from the Goddesses. This time," He offhandedly flicked away a streak of white light from Zelda. "I'm not giving you the chance."

Link grimaced. Cold dread filling his gut as the blades weight drove him down and Ganon gathered orbs of magic in both hands.

Then Ganon's intense gaze flicked up just in times to meet a tidal wave of golden energy with outstretched hands. Zelda's eyes were fierce as she unleashed another surge into the constant stream bombarding the dark warrior, her arms extended. Ganondorf grimaced and raised his own arms in response. It looked like the two conjurers were straining at a brick wall between them and neither was having any success at moving it.

  
As Link engaged the black, serrated sword, his thoughts swirled chaotically. It was a sword but a man too? How could he initiate the switch? The pressure bearing down on him was more powerful than any man Link had ever faced. And he was wearing out quickly.  
Deciding on one realistic course of action, Link dropped his left knee, shoved hard with his arms and dove to the side. Immediately crying out when the viciously undulated margins of the blade dug into his calf. He rolled to his feat, staggering, eyes only for the blade that once again began to transform without his prompting.

  
This time it morphed slowly, leisurely, and this time, Link could clearly see its eyes. Black and soulless though they appeared, the hero was certain he saw joyful bloodlust in their midnight depths as the creature sauntered towards him. It wasn’t just a tool. This thing had a personality.

  
Conjuring up its own thin sword, the diamond-clad facsimile of a man grinned impossibly wide and struck in a gale of limbs and steal.

Across the room, Ganon and Zelda were locked in a fierce embrace of magic. It was swirling around them in random bursts and angry plumes. The battling pair was no longer on the ground but hovering above it, eyes locked. Sparks flew, colorful and bright. Ganon’s malicious grin and violet magic the antithesis to Zelda’s grim determination and golden power.  
Suddenly, Ganon lunged forward and Zelda retaliated with all her force, breaking the sphere of magic and sending them both flying, into the center of the room and the wall respectively.

Meanwhile, Link was forcefully pressing a small but hard one advantage when the other battling pair broke apart. He struck again at the creature's only adornment, the orange diamond at its chest. For one blessed moment, his dark adversary retreated, hand to his torso, and Link could spare a glance in Zelda's direction.

  
It seemed she’d managed to cushion the magic's assault with some of her own because rather than the unconscious figure he was expecting, he could see Zelda staggering to her feet with a slightly dizzy but ferocious look to her. Heartened by her quick reflexes, Link pivoted back to his opponent to the sound of leather gauntlets tightening against the hilt of the master sword.

  
But his laughing adversary wasn't there.

  
Instead, the hero heard a strange metallic ringing. Diamonds shimmered, floating in the air where his opponent had been. Link’s glaze flickered all around him: behind, up, to Zelda, and then he heard the ringing again, along with markedly lecherous laughter.  
Then came the unmistakable, piercing touch of steal in his chest.

* * *

 

From her position by the wall, Zelda's eyes widened in shock and horror as Link's form came into focus. Her already dizzy mind swam at the impossibility of the thin blade protruding from Link's torso. At the blood spilling down his green tunic—at the perplexed expression on his face—at the light that faded with cruel haste from his once vibrant blue eyes.

  
When Link’s lifeless body slumped to the floor, Zelda did to, an anguished cry escaping her lips.

  
Ganon grinned in triumph, raising a large hand to summon the enchanted sword back to him.

  
Without Link there was little chance for her to defeat Ganon alone, Zelda reflected mechanically. Once he exhausted her, he would take her piece of the Triforce, become twice as powerful and be virtually impossible for Courage alone to vanquish. For her, there was only one acceptable course of action.

  
After reclaiming the personified sword, Ganon turned a roguish grin on the princess.

  
Zelda met his gaze evenly, moving to stand with one hand steading herself on the cold stone wall before pushing off with resolution and conjuring her own rapier in preparation for combat.

  
At least that's what Ganon thought.

  
Until the bearer of the Triforce of Wisdom plunged a blade of light into her own chest.

  
Time didn’t slow for Ganon. It moved too fast. He couldn’t reach her in time. And he couldn’t take her piece if she was dead.

The earth itself seemed to tremble.

Ganon fell to one knee as the castle trembled violently and two golden orbs darted up from the bodies to hover in the center of the palace chamber.

The two unwillingly liberated Triforce pieces hung, shuddering in the air as dark red blood crept along fissures in the massive stone slabs below. They vibrated near each other in agitation, as if not understanding that their hosts were gone.

In the Heavens, the Goddess looked on in shock.

A thunderous trembling shook the world as Courage and Wisdom exploded out into the night, unadulterated power lighting up the countryside in random, violent bursts. The two intermittently collided, ricocheting off each other in a frantic search for stability, for belonging. They rattled the very mountains in a failing search for worthy vessels to inhabit.

But they were not prepared.

Each lifetime, after Link and Zelda eventually died, their souls would linger in the heavens, unaware and waiting until Hyrule once again needed its Princess and Hero. Then the two would be returned to the earth when appropriate vessels, one in the royal family and one to a hardworking, Hylian family, were accessible.

This deliberate slaughter of the two Triforce wielders disrupted a primeval rhythm older than time. There were no bodies to inhabit that fit the preceding requirements and the world needed its heroes to be present.

From the heavens looking down, one of the Goddesses—Farore—moved forward, as if to intercede but was halted by a hand on her arm.

“We cannot intervene.” Din said solemnly.

“If left unchecked, the Triforce pieces will wreak havoc on the mortal world. They can’t come back here and they cannot be allowed to remain without vassals. Inaction is not an option.” Nayru’s hands were folded calmly, and she seemed to carry none of the anxiousness the other two betrayed as she gazed down at the earth.

“What then?” Farore asked with a mixture of exasperation and a fidgety desire for action.

The Blue Goddess gazed down at the images before them for a moment. “Power’s violent acts are calling Wisdom and Courage to remain but no traditional vessels are available. The reincarnation cycle has been interrupted.” She mused as the earth trembled below. “We must choose new souls for Courage and Wisdom to inhabit, that fall outside the usual parameters. Humans that are already developed and personify the desired characteristics.”

“But if we do that, there’s no knowing what will happen to the souls that have been attached to Courage and Wisdom for so long. Link and Zelda…” Farore said uncertainly.

Nayru’s eyes fell, “Yes.”

With a growl, Din rubbed her glowing orange temples, “My chosen can be so difficult sometimes! There is no precedent for this.” She gestured to the trembling planet below with exasperation. “At least when he dies we have time to set the board. I wonder if he did this on purpose…” she added thoughtfully, orange brows frowning.

Din sighed again, long and slow, and the other two waited for her deliberation.

“Whatever the case, Nayru’s right, inaction is not an option.” She affirmed decisively, eyes locking with her blue sister. And then all three traded glances.

“The divine pieces must not roam unchecked.”

“We will chose new human vassals for the lost pieces to inhabit.” The three voices spoke as one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't been posting very long (or writing very long) but I hope you guys like this! 
> 
> New chapters will be posted every Friday.
> 
> Edited/Beta'd by Pinklily8  
> 10/11/2018


	2. Chapter 2

_Kyra_

The summer afternoon was loud and bright as groups chatted animatedly around newly erected tents on the shores of Hylia Lake. Most of the hands passing along drink and food belong to teenaged Hylians and Sheikah. The upcoming season of violent bliss running rampant in every mind. This place would sculpt them into warriors.

Colins stomach turned with terrified excitement.

During the summer months, a makeshift war camp populated the normally uninhabited southwestern edge of the massive lake. Having grown up in the borderlands, Colin could never have fathomed how splendid the lake would be. He couldn’t even see the other side! Crete was the closest city on the water's edge and it was a days’ travel north.

After giving a tearful goodbye to his father, Colin, along with the other new recruits were lead by an impassive Sheikah into a sea of large, durable looking tents and wooden structures. They populated the open green fields, scattered coniferous trees providing shade in-between the narrow lanes. It was like a small city, animals and people clouging the lanes.

Hyrule Training Camp invited all courageous Hylian adolescents, between the ages of twelve and eighteen, to be instructed by Hyrules finest in the arts of war for three months every summer. It was free with the assumption that whichever province sent the most children would also provide the military with a constant influx of new recruits. It was an impeccable opportunity to foster a sense of pride and camaraderie amongst the various provinces and gain valuable skills.

At least, that was what the advertisement posters said. Colin’s father had warned him not to get wrapped up in national pride and “just come home safe.”

Hoards of young men and women from around the countryside, assembled on one big grassy field, waiting to be assigned their tent mates for the summer. There was a palpable sense of nervous excitement in the air. Some older trainees were returners and had been here before. They strutted from group to group, speaking loudly and assuring the new trainees that sleeping arrangements would be excellent –wink— and the food was terrible.

Colin was too nervous to do anything but nod in agreement at everything they said.

Different trainers, ranging from Sheikah masters to young Hylian knights, strode back and forth giving orders and delivering messages. Colin starred in awe as they passed. These where said to be the finest warriors in Hyrule.

Idling in the sun, pointedly avoiding eye contact with anyone while waiting for his name to be called was how Colin first caught sight of a tall woman with red hair and dark coppery skin. She’d passed by a few times already when the congregated trainees started to notice.

Pretty soon, when the young woman, who wore the deep green upper armband of a trainer, strode through, silence fell. Followed immediately by furious whispers after she’d past. Most of the trainees had never seen or heard of a Gerudo walking free in Hyrule province before. It simply didn’t happen.

So, at first, they couldn’t believe Kyra’s dark coppery skin and startling red hair originated from the fierce race of warrior women.

“She can’t really be Gerudo, can she?” One Sheikah girl whispered.

For most Hylians, Gerudo were relegated to villainous mythos. Stories told around campfires to scare the young ones—a scourge to the borderlands. Nothing more.

Unfortunately, Colin knew exactly what she was.

The beating sun highlighted the sharp angles of her face and her muscular, imposing figure was a pounding reminder of something that Colin would rather forget. Sneering faces of born killers during a raid, as they indiscriminately felled innocent farmers and soldiers alike. Straw thatched houses burning in the street filling his nostrils with the scent of smoke and death.

At first, he had just frozen in shock, unable to comprehend what he was seeing.

Many others had childhood stories similar to Colin’s and it didn’t take long for the whispered word to spread, like wildfire in the plains.

_Gerudo_ …

Savages.

Thieves.

Tensions escalated quickly once the young trainees became more and more sure of her origins, more and more alarmed. Colin’s mind was anxiously working as the others debated around him.

“They wouldn’t allow her here, give her an armband, if she were… you know… bad. These are the greatest warriors in the world, after all. She must be something else, not Gerudo at all.” He said almost pleadingly to a random group nearby.

“What people’s do you know that look like that besides the Gerudo?” A girl with dark brown hair and freckles asked almost angrily.

“Well, I—I haven’t seen many other races.” Collin mumbled, dropping his gaze.

“Well, my da has, and he says there are many different kinds out there but he’s never—”

“Attention trainees!”

A loud, commanding voice gained the attention of the hundreds assembled. As one, the all turned to see a woman standing upon a raised podium. Dressed in Sheikah colors, she had slate gray hair, arranged in a strict bun and a severe expression to match.

“I was going to address you formally later this evening but it seems you’re to agitated to wait. Hopefully, by the end of the summer, we will have cured you of that weakness.” Her voice was far stronger than any elder Colin had ever heard speak. “I am Master Impa of the Sheikah and, Kyra would come up here please.” The Master gestured sharply and the dark woman who’d so captured notice, walked on stage.

“This,” Impa said nodding, “Is one of the many valiant warriors who have earned a place as a trainer at the Hyrule Training Camp this year. We retain only the best, regardless of ethnic origin. As should be obvious by our mixing of trainers from both Kakariko and Hyrule proper.”

“Now, based on Hyrules’ violent history with the Gerudo tribes, I understand your trepidation over Kyra’s presence. I’m here to reassure you,” The woman scowled as she said this. As fact that she had to reassure anyone was against her principles. Colin almost peed himself at the look. “That despite her looks, Kyra is, for all intents and purposes, Hylian. Her father is Hylian and she was born and raised here, in Hyrule. And you will treat her with the same respect and courtesy you do any other trainer. Is that understood?”

There was almost no response from the gathered trainees. Master Impa’s disapproving expression hardened further. “Is. That. Understood?” She asked again and this time many returners remembered their training from previous years and saluted, if somewhat slowly, with a chorus of, “Yes ma’am!”

“Good.” The master nodded in satisfaction. “Then I trust you to work diligently for the rest of the day with no more complaints. Dismissed.”

“This is ridiculous!” Someone immediately hissed to his right. “It doesn’t matter who their sire was, a Gerudo’s a Gerudo.” And there was an answering chorus of agreement from several others.

Well… the complaints didn’t stop. But they did lower in volume. That was something.

Stunned, outraged… maybe curious? Colin wasn’t quite sure how to feel. The whole situation was very overwhelming.

Very little of the first day could be spent on contemplation however, as no sooner than the trainees were dismissed, they were put to work setting up their own camp. Digging latrines, setting up a mess tent and sleeping quarters, gathering firewood, unloading food and supplies and personal gear. Colin suspected it was punishment for their earlier behavior.

The moment a break was taken, though, speculation erupted like a plague once again.

Gerudo were often seen in the borderlands, that’s part of the reason why the area was so poor and sparsely populated, but in the main part of the kingdom and raised by a Hylian father? No one had ever heard of that happening before. Colin didn’t participate but he did listen very closely to these discussions. During the first few days many questions and theories were bandied about.

How had she come to be here? If she was only half Gerudo, what happened to her mother? Was Kyra as ruthless as her people or did her Hylian blood outweigh the Gerudo? Was she sent as a spy? How could the Hylian and Sheikah leadership allow her to instruct? Some said that she had once been a student at the camp. Others speculated that her father was one of the camp officials and that was how she got the position, but no one could say who, out of the many veteran knights, it would be. And no one would dare accuse a seasoned Hylian warrior of associating with a Gerudo woman.

Though in quiet circles, that exact thing was known to happen. A knight would be stationed in on of the borderland provinces and inevitably fall into the waiting arms of a Gerudo woman for distraction and companionship. It was common enough. Especially near one of the friendlier Gerudo tribes. However, bringing home a bastard child from one of these illicit relationships was completely unheard of. It was well known that Gerudo woman often sought out male partners to sire more females as their kind only produced males once every century. But they always took those girls back to the desert with them. Always.

It went on and like this in circles. No one had real answers and still, everyone loved speculating.

And the other trainers and masters either didn’t know anything about her or refused to say. Conflicted unease kept Colin quiet.

There was nothing he could do to forget the raising of his village and the women who had done it. And there was no way Kyra could be involved in such things otherwise she wouldn’t be allowed to be here. But still… Everything about her reminded him of fire and violence, her bright amber eyes, and long red hair. The powerful way she strode through camp. The lean, corded muscle sharply defined under her smooth copper skin. The way she handled weapons, like they were building tools and her a seasoned craftsmen. All bespoke violence and danger.

And yet… all those things also seemed at odds with her soft, intelligent eyes.

Collin would never have said this to anyone, but privately, they reminded him of a child's, innocent and curious. That first morning, when it was cold and the trainees were blowing on their numb hands and stamping their feet as they waited in line for food, Colin noticed some boys tossing things at her. Small sticks, rocks, and pinecones: throwing things is somehow always appealing to kids of all ages and it was mostly harmless. Until it became obvious that no one could hit his or her target.

No matter what she was doing: returning from a meeting with the masters at twilight, instructing a sword class, swimming, eating, she always seemed to sense their throws and dodge just in time. It started out isolated and random but quickly developed into a game for them. A game the instigators always lost. They whispered that Gerudo must have eyes in the back of their heads.

Early in the morning, on the third day after their arrival, the trainees were taken out on the lake for the first time.

Light glinted off the deep blue water as they approached the shore, the sound of stones crunching underfoot mingling with the soft lap of waves. Colin squinted and blinked profusely, lifting up a hand to shade his face as the sharp rays of sunlight reflected off the sparkling water. It was just as stunning as the first day. The sun was just over the horizon; lighting up the gently churning water and the air had a sharp, fresh tang to it. It was much colder here than Colin had expected.

Every morning they woke up with frost on their tents and a reluctance to leave the comfort of their bedrolls. Older trainees assured him that it would get warmer in a few weeks as the summer came into full swing. Master Auru, an reserved man with greying hair, lead them to the shore and introduced them to the trainers who would be leading this specific session. Every activity was allotted only a third of the day and took place at the same times as two other activities, with the various groups of trainees rotating through. It was pretty disorienting at first, but Master Auru kept them on schedule and led them to wherever they needed to be so they could just focus on the activities and not worry about the schedule so much.

Then Colin heard the name of the trainer who would be leading his subset of the group and his stomach dropped.

He glanced at the frighteningly tall woman and unconsciously raised a hand to cover his face. He hadn’t figured out how to feel about her yet! It wasn’t just him, luckily. His whole tent group was assigned to her as a team. But unlike him, the others seemed to relish the chance to mine her for information.

Many others had tried of course, but like their imprudent ‘target practice’ none had been successful in learning anything about Master Kyra’s past. The dark skinned woman directed them to prepare the canoes in a low, calm voice.

As they worked, any murmured complaints or dissidence or personal inquiries towards her were met with a silent, intense gaze that soon had the offender glancing away in embarrassment.

One boy—Bran, maybe?— refused to do as instructed, adamantly stomping his foot.

Everyone froze to see how she would react.

The warrior simply shrugged and hefted the canoe all by herself, saying quietly “If you can’t work with the team, we’ll leave you behind” and walked away.

The boy gaped after her, opened mouthed, and then stormed off to one of the other trainers.

After that, the group worked very efficiently to load up the boats and move them to the water. Though, instead of being cowed, many of the boys seemed encouraged to hound Kyra with increasingly more disrespectful questions.

“It’s not true you’re mum’s Gerudo, is it? Must be your dad. No self-respecting mum would leave, right?”

“Are you an orphan or what?”

“Yeah if you have a dad, where is he, huh?”

Aside from glancing up briefly, she gave no indication that she’d heard what they said, just kept working. Releasing the ties on the boats and showing Colin and the other more complaint children how to do the same. And she didn’t look pained or irritated or anything! It really was like she hadn’t heard them.

After a short time, the boy who had stormed off was escorted back by one of the Sheikah trainers.

“I believe you lost this.” She said. It was almost teasing, if the Sheikah did that sort of thing. Kyra stood up, shaking her head, “I can’t use someone who will let his team down by not trying.”

“I will not!” Bran shouted, stamping his foot again. He was a year older than Colin. For all he sounded about five and looked about two with his angry face and clenched fists.

There was a pause while Kyra assessed him, hands on hips. Then she quirked her head to the right, gesturing at the boat to her right, “Prove it.” And Bran marched forward and began doing just as she’d instructed a half hour before.

Colin could have sworn he saw the Sheikah trainer roll her eyes.

Neither could be much past adolescents and yet the Sheikah trainer and Kyra only traded respectful nods before the other woman strode off. Notably absent was the giggles and playful teasing that most girls engaged in when they met.

Theirs was a rather subdued party that finally rowed out onto the waters of Lake Hylia to meet the other teams. None of them really knew how to act, especially when the disconcerting rocking of the canoe made a few visible green. Still, Kyra directed them with subtle suggestions that were only begrudgingly implemented after the trainees had done it wrong in a million creative ways first.

Once everyone was out on the water, games and challenges between different groups began. Simple things, to help them gain motor control in the boats and with the oars. The cloud of uncertainty soon vanished under the distraction of youthful determination. Inept struggling morphed slowly into more sure movements as they practiced. Well intentioned teasing was bandied about, the trainees relaxed into the activity and seeming to forget their trainer, drifting quietly in the back. While the trainees were paired up, two to a boat, Kyra occupied on by herself, speaking only when a mistake was made or question asked.

“Do Gerudo have eyes in the back of their heads?”

“How many eyes?”

“Do you need sleep? Do you eat?”

Her answers were invariably monosyllabic and impassive. “No. Like this. Focus. No. Sometimes.”

Occasionally, the corners of her lips would quirk at a particularly ridiculous question but she would still answer with the same patient apathy.

Bran’s rowing form was off, even after everyone else—even Colin who had never seen so much water in his life—had already gotten the hang of it. Instead of verbally correcting him, she covertly maneuvered her boat in front of his and moved with exaggerated slowness until he was able to adjust on his own.

Colin just stared, wondering how old she was. Where she had learned to be as patient and gentle and fiercely stern as a grandmother, sitting around a hearth on a blustery winter day, teaching rambunctious children to sew.

His stunned observations turned into frantic rowing when she caught him staring.

Soon, their small groups begrudging effort transformed into excited gusto when the team finished first in a navigation race. The boys all cheered jubilantly. Colin barely noticed. He only noticed the corners of Kyra’s lips twitch in the ghost of a smile, like intermittent sun peeking through the clouds on a gloomy day. He wondered if it was because she liked to win or because she'd taught them how to win.

As the days wore on, Colin became maddeningly disarmed by her quiet competency, her soft amber eyes. The occasional nods she gave that caused him to increase his effort tenfold just to receive another trivial show of her approval. All this brought the bitter taste of shame to his mouth. He knew what her people had done. He knew that he should be collaborating with the others to get her thrown out of camp...but he couldn't. He couldn't find a reason to hate her on bias alone.

But Colin seemed to be the only one to feel this way.

Most students who had yet to rotate through and train with her directly—and even some who had—still nursed wounded prides and bitter feelings about her authority. The other trainers and masters, though not overly warm to her, obviously indorsed her presence, so why couldn’t everyone else?

There was even one massive red haired trainer, with sunburnt white skin and a boisterous laugh that caused Colin to start, who always approached her with a smile and called her cousin. That was heartening. Why couldn’t everyone be like that? Why couldn’t he?

Girls sniffed in disdain when she passed by and promising young Hylian warriors eyed the skillful woman with contempt. She never seemed to notice these looks but anytime Colin’s gaze lingered too long, she caught him!

One peaceful afternoon, when set to learning efficient methods for building arrows from scratch, Colin overheard someone mutter, “Shouldn’t even be handling this sort of thing near respectable folk… Gerudo whore could turn on us at any minute.” It turned the bright afternoon dark for Colin. His hands started to shake and he set down his work to gaze out into the pine forest with worried eyes.

There seemed to be a sense of tension in the air and Colin’s concern about what dark actions some of the older trainees were willing to take caused him to fidget endlessly during any stationary activity, as those were the times the older boys seemed to scheme the most.

Finally, on the eighth day, a few of the older trainees challenged her to single combat.

They waited until evening, when the whole camp was clustered around many assorted cook fires for dinner. Insects circled the source of light and warmth as much as the people. Colin, as was becoming a habit with him, was situated near his tent’s fire, reclining against a tent pole, while maintaining a good view of Kyra out the corner of his eye.

She was off to the side, partially hidden in shadow. The brown, sleeveless jacket she always wore fell to her knees in loose flaps. It was slashed down the middle to allow movement at the legs and synched tightly at the waist by a red leather belt, which was a few shades darker than her hair. The outfit was rugged and always reminded Colin of the mismatched clothes of weathered mercenaries that would occasionally pass through his hometown on their way from one debased job to another.

The evening was wearing on and she was alone, a seemingly forgotten bowl resting between her hands, eyes lost in the fire. She didn’t seem at all bothered by the cold, which had set in as soon as the sun sank over the hills.

The boys who challenged her were some of the oldest, between sixteen and seventeen, a mix of lethal Sheikah and imposing Hylians. They marched up to her with the unfounded, swaggering confidence only teenagers seem to possess.

“We find ourselves a bit restless this evening” Their spokesman said grandly, loud enough for Colin, who was thirty meters away, to hear. “Care to join with us in a few rounds of single combat?” Kyra didn’t answer right away. She assessed them with a guarded, and if Colin didn’t know better, he’d say somewhat wearied expression.

“Just for a bit of fun,” He graciously rushed to assure her. “To… test ourselves against one of the masters.” There was a patronizing, bitter tone in his voice that even a child could discern.

Characteristically, if she was of aware of the insult in their every gesture, her face didn’t show it. Kyra simply nodded and stood—long red braid swinging—setting her food aside and accepting the wooden training sword that was offered to her.

A small circle formed between two fires, trainers and trainees alike looking on in interest as Kyra and a boy named Sheik stepped forward.

The challenger was not the one who had spoken so brashly but rather a wiry, silent warrior that Colin had personally encountered with disastrous, painful, results. His backside still ached from the one swift sparring match they’d had together. Not to mention Colin had also observed Sheik dispatching other, more proficient, trainees in practice as easily and thoughtlessly as a child swats a fly.

Thin, like most Sheikah, he showed controlled grace in every movement. With a broad upper body for his age and serious red eyes, the idea of facing that particular young man in combat again, even cursorily, had Colin shuddering in fear as he moved with the others to stand and watch.

Sound died away as the two squared up. Only the crackling of the fire that silhouetted them could be heard, setting the stage. The dancing shadows of the night morphed the two combatants into towering warriors of old. To Colins eye, both seemed equally imposing and dangerous in the tense night air, though the Gerudo was several inches taller.

In Kyra’s face, he could perceive no trace of the tenderness that usually drew him in, only cold resolve. He shivered again as the two opponents raised their weapons.

Sheik charged and Kyra waited, body motionless and slightly crouched. The practice sword was loose in her right hand and when Sheik swooped down, swinging hard she casually raised her left hand, thumb down, and stopped the sword dead, clasping her hand around the blunt blade. A ripple moved up her arm at impact but other than that she gave no indication that pain or effort were felt from the action.

There was a shocked moment of stillness before she easily slipped the wooden sword out of his loose grip, standing up straight. Eyeing her opponent, Kyra idly handled the practice sword, hefting its weight. Silence reigned.

Colin felt awkward without the usual shouts and angry taunting that typically came with this kind of exercise. But there was something solemn about this event, only the crackling tension between the two combatants grounding the onlookers in reality.

Finally, Kyra held out the hilt of his sword to Sheik. “Try again.” She said.

“If that was a real blade you never would have tried to catch it.” He stated, incredulous, making no move to accept her offer.

A small, knowing grin twitched at the corners of her lips and she nudged the hilt at him again, “If you make your strikes more subtle, I won’t be able to catch it”

At that, the red-faced young man snatched the training sword back and fell into a fighting stance.

Though, to call what happened next a fight would be too generous.

The young Sheikah swung and danced about the tall Gerudo, strikes perfect and swift… but Kyra barely seemed to move. She shifted casually between stances, rarely even using her sword, ducking and sidestepping in small, economical movements that belayed their excellence.

The first time, Sheik fell to the damp earth under his own momentum and a few mocking whoops went up from the crowd, who’d apparently broken out of their mesmerized spell. He quickly sprang back to his feet, frazzled, whirling to face her but he needn’t have hurried. She was waiting patiently, eyes impassive.

The second time, Kyra struck him down and Sheik visibly struggled to his feet. The single impact of her elbow to his chest obviously more detrimental than it seemed.

The third time, it happened so quickly Colin’s eyes couldn’t catch exactly what transpired. But suddenly, Sheik lay prostrate on the ground, his chest heaving in exertion and Kyra stood calmly above him. His red eyes seemed stunned as he gazed up and the two regarded one another, the fires merry crackling oblivious to the gripping battle taking place beside it.

Finally, Kyra lowered to crouch down before her student. They held gazes for another laden moment before she extended her hand, mutely offering to help him rise. There was another tense pause and the throng held its breath. What if he refused? She was Gerudo after all, did the normal rules of engagement still apply? Would he take his defeat with grace or—

Before Colin could get too anxious, Sheik reached out and took her proffered hand. Kyra’s face looked relieved and she effortlessly hauled him to his feet as the assembly roared its approval, shattering the quiet of the night with rebounding shouts that echoed across the lake. A frenzy of cheers and clapping overwhelmed the crowd, drowning the battling pair in a tide of excitement as trainees and trainers alike rushed forward to applaud Sheik’s effort and the fight itself.

“That was amazing! You were so fast! Can you teach me the underhand strike you used?” The boys devolved into a throng, jockeying for position in wild enthusiasm. Colin was dizzily clapping with the rest as he unconsciously struggled closer to the pair.

When he neared, he realized that even in their excitement, most of the boys were giving Kyra a wide berth. She was like an island in a stormy sea. They were excited by the display but still obviously wary of the Gerudo woman.

The group leader with the boisterous laugh –“No need for formalities kid! No, not ‘Sir’, relax little guy, the names Groose!”—raced over to Kyra with more speed than Colin would have expected for a man his size and clapped her on the back exclaiming, “Atta girl!” They were of a height and she looked at him with a wrinkled forehead,

“He’s still a child…” Colin heard her murmur discreetly. “Congratulate me when I can best Master Impa. At anything.”

Groose roared with laughter, pounding her back again—an act which Colin had personally seen knock over three people but Kyra didn’t even seem to notice—as she squinted at him with that same, confused wrinkle in her brow, as if she’d never shared a joke with someone before. Then, fleetingly, even while her eyes still looked suspicious of his blithe laughter, the corners of her mouth twitched up. It was more emotions in one minute than he’d seen her express in an entire day.

Somehow, the warrior noticed him approaching and Colin could see that the coldness from the battle had drained away to be replaced once again by her steady warmth.

“That was amazing!” He blurted out before he could stop himself. Then suddenly the differing foot-wear of his fellow trainees became very absorbing and why did his face feel so hot and—

“Thank you, Colin” He almost didn’t hear it through the noise but understanding that she not only knew his name but spoke it in her soft, low voice sent a shiver down his spine. His head snapped up to meet her gaze. “ah…” Colin opened his mouth to speak but nothing audible came out.

“I hope that didn’t scare you…” Her voice was low and hesitant and her eyes were searching his for something that Colin hoped she’d find despite not really understanding what she was looking for.

“Uh no, no, I… Well, yes I was worried but I needn't have been. It always scares me what they say, and the fighting too, but you’re too strong to let them hurt you. I hope I can be that strong someday. And still be nice.” It was almost like he was thinking out loud. It was terribly hard to breath and frighteningly easy to be honest with her.

An unabashed smile lit up her eyes, crinkling them warmly.

Colin wished that he could make her smile like that everyday for the rest of his life, even if he had to babble like an idiot.

A streak of light behind her head stole his attention.

Kyra pivoted, immediately alert, her eyes following the line of his gaze but the sky was blank. The streak of light had already vanished.

Then the ground began to tremble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you to my beta reader, Pinklily8, she's been incredibly helpful and this story wouldn't be the same without her. 
> 
> If you're into this story, let me know! Comments about ways to improve are always welcome :)


	3. Chapter 3

_Dante_

The night air was sharp with the tang of electricity and salt as wind whipped at the clothes of the few crewmen who lurched out onto the wooden deck of a stalwart seafaring vessel. Explosions of light and sound rocketed all around; a tremble permeated the air and wormed its way into the very bones of the Hourglass crew as the stumbled on the heaving vessel.

“PULL THE SAILS... IN…E…THING DOWN!” The young captain could barely make himself heard over the rushing of the suddenly tumultuous water and the violent clashes of the stars above.

The small crew worked furiously to secure a diminutive ship that _usually_ sheltered in carefully selected coves during such rough storms. Progress was significantly hindered by large waves that crashed over the deck, pitching the men to and fro as carelessly and easily as a cat tosses around a mouse.

They had been so close to Castle town, the captain thought in helpless frustration while he forced his numb hands to form working knots in the rough sailing rope, picturing the precious cargo below decks straining against the cables meant to secure it to the hull.

What was the point of all his calculations, if a storm like this could just pop up out of nowhere? Dante had long prided himself on his unique ability to judge the seas. It was a part of the reason why he was even allowed to Captain a ship at his age, let alone to something as frivolous as exploring with it.

And in his four years as Captain, Dante had never made a mistake like this. How had a storm system of this magnitude built so quickly? None of his instruments had indicated so much as a raincloud just a few hours prior. Dante stumbled to the next knot in line and angrily wiped saltwater off of his face as he worked. He couldn’t even begin to make sense of the wild meteorological clashes overhead that seemed to be the cause of the crashing waves. How would he explain this to Beedle?

This storm had erupted without any warning, a complete anomaly that had Dante grinding his teeth while his befuddled mind wrestled with experience for a reasonable explanation. Over the years, the young man had become familiar with the unpredictability of the sea but this was something else entirely. Lights flashed overhead in random burst that were accompanied by colossal explosive reverberations. Dante had no idea what to make of it.

Despite the anomalous obstacles, the men were managing to secure the craft with admirable efficiency. No one had fallen overboard, the sail was down, the—

The captain’s stomach lurched as he caught sight of a tiny figure making its way slowly down the side of the tossing lower deck. With a growl of frustration, he instantly dropped the half complete knot and rushed to the stairs, slipping several times as he leaped down. She saw him coming and immediately looked more terrified than she had been of the far more realistic threat of being thrown overboard.

The young, disheveled captain didn’t stop to talk. He stooped down, ungraciously threw his little sister over his shoulder and made for the entrance to the cabins below. The wiry nine-year-old struggled in his grip, “Put me down! I want to help.”

“You can’t help if you’re dead!” He shouted back, fear pounding in his blood.

A massive crash of noise, too high pitched and crackling to be thunder, sent him staggering and crashing into the small door he’d been heading for. Seawater flooded the deck up to his waist and the captain briefly fought against its pull by clinging to the wooden door handle and praying it didn’t snap. The water drained away as quickly as it had come and Dante wrenched open the door, throwing the soaked child inside. Pausing only to give her a heated look, “Come out on deck again and I’ll leave you with mother for the rest of the year.” before promptly slamming the door shut again.

Stars danced crazily overhead and Dante distantly realized that the immediate consequence of the high water swells and furious gales must be a direct result of whatever cosmological event was going on in the heavens above.

He was halfway back up the treacherously heaving ship when a powerful wave took his feet, sweeping the young Captain out completely over the railing and into the salty torrent below.

Sound became muffled under the waves, distant thunder and light still flashed above and Dante swam towards it while salt water burned his eyes. He broke the surface gasping and another swell immediately submerged him again. This time, Dante waited more patiently, feeling the waters erratic movements and watching the swells above through blurry eyes. Then when a brief lull stilled the water over him, he kicked back to the surface.

Gulping in air and searching around for the ship, which he spotted already a daunting distance away, Dante paused to catch his breath before striking out, alternately ducking under waves and treading blind when bursts of light, bright as the noonday sun, flashed overhead. _What was causing this freak storm_?

One falling star dropped closer than the others, lighting up the water, the boat and the sky with an otherworldly brightness. It was moving ridiculously fast, and Dante noticed in a distracted way that there was now only one other comet in the heavens and it was shooting away.

After that, there was no real warning, no awareness, no prior experience that could have prepared him for the magnitude of energy that slammed into him in the form of a ball of light.

The power consumed his mind and body, burning away all other thought or purpose besides its incredible weight. It was as though a blanket had surrounded him, smothering, permeating, and settling into his body. His very being became inundated with a foreign presence and energy.

Belatedly, Dante realized he was underwater and sucking that in through his nose instead of air. He kicked to the surface again, choking down what felt like a gallon of salty brine before he finally broke the surface, spluttering and gasping. An unfamiliar energy expanded in his body, making the very skin of his face and arms feel tight. Or perhaps he was just getting salt poisoning.

The first thing he became aware of, outside the peculiar sensations in his body, was an odd calm. No lights flashed, and though the sea still trembled—as though frightened by its own ferocity—it was less turbulent than before.

Then he heard a voice ask. “ _Where are we?_ ” It was a woman's tilt, refined and oddly echoing. Out of instinct Dante’s eyes darted around him as he treaded water but he knew there was no one else there in the darkness. Bewilderment and heavy breathing seemed to be the only response he was capable of giving to the bodiless voice.

“Captain!” Someone on the crew had spotted him and they were working to turn the ship in his direction, their shouts distant and small.

“ _Captain? At your age? Well the Goddesses certainly picked an ambitious vessel, didn’t they?_ ”

Now devoid of cacophonic light eruptions, the night sky was calm and clear and Dante’s eyes were slowly readjusting to the dark while pure shock kept his mind sputtering for a reasonable explanation for his apparent madness. Perhaps he’d struck his head?

" _Are you mute or simply overwhelmed?_

“Whe- how-I-I don’t-” Stunned would be a gross underestimation of his current mental state.

“ _I understand how disconcerting this must be for you,”_ He could almost feel her nodding and Dante shuddered, not at all trusting these foreign sensations.

_“I myself was not expecting to become a disembodied guide, trapped in another's body._ " Her tone expressed no sympathy as she continued, only sardonic dresignation. “ _Though it does seem that an information exchange is required_ . _For my part, it seems you are the new barrier of the Triforce of Wisdom and we must move quickly to ensure the safety of Hyrule.”_

Dante couldn’t even begin to formulate a suitable reply to that; he just sat there, treading water, spluttering.

So it was a good thing when the disembodied voice repeated her earlier question, prompting him. “ _Where are we? And why are you swimming in the ocean?_ ” Rather, it was less a question and more of a condescending demand, which consequently spiked Dante’s ire enough to provoke his first literate response.

“First, _Madame_ : this isn’t a pleasure swim. Second: it’s completely impossible for what you say to be true, as I know for a fact that the Princess of Hyrule is currently, and has always been, the bearer of the Triforce of Wisdom. And thirdly: where are _you_?” He splashed water as he spun around, gesturing with his hands. His tone was high and accusational, the absurdity of talking to oneself while waiting to be fished from the ocean after a freak meteorological event had him understandably frazzled.

“ _To answer your last question first, I believe my consciousness, or soul if you will, has become permanently attached to the Triforce through reincarnation. And it seems as though new tradition is being established. Wisdom has been transferred to you, an entirely different soul and I was ostensibly pulled along, caught in limbo somewhere on the same ethereal plain. Not really a part of your body and mind but able to communicate with and perceive them. The purpose of my presence, I assume, is to offer aid and advice. Or it could simply be an accident. Any conclusion drawn at this point is still speculation._ ”

Her voice had taken on a very precise and analytical tone, as if she were working through a puzzle. It seemed like the information was new to her as well.

Female, commanding, intellectual… the pieces were starting to click together in Dante’s head. “So… Does that mean you’re… you’re the pr-”

“ _I’m nothing now—just a phantom. But since we’ll be in each other’s company a great deal from now on, you may call me Zelda.”_ Though her words were delivered with clinical efficiency, Dante could sense a storm of emotion, broiling, aching, straining just beneath the surface, locked behind some unseen barrier.

The ship was getting closer.

Incredibly, and though she didn’t seem ready to admit it, the voice in his head belonged to the Princess of Hyrule. Adding to that, as he slowly treaded water, Dante could see a triangle, glowing softly on his right hand and standing out in alarming contrast to the midnight blue seas.

“Listen, listen… what you say is impossible. But… if it _were_ true, then what happened to you? You can’t be dead. You have hundreds of guards. What about the Hero? He’s always with you.” Saying this, Dante felt completely secure in the knowledge that what he said was irrefutably true and there couldn’t possibly be another plausible answer.

For the first time, the voice hesitated. He could sense that half concealed tightness again, and again, he shuddered. One should not be able to _feel_ what someone else was feeling.

“ _Ganondorf just stormed the castle, without warning or preamble_ .” The echoing notes of her voice became less controlled, trembling slightly. “ _We fought him but… the Sheikah and all their technology, the castle guard… no one could break through the magical barrier he erected around the audience chamber. We were alone.”_ Sorrow was leaking into her voice like a poison _. “Link fought with masterful technique and deadly precision of course but... Ganon had another with him… a demon.”_ Her voice choked off.

The tightness he’d been noticing returned in full force and if the fresh agony and dread pervading her voice wasn't enough to convince him of the truth, the accompanying rush of unsolicited and foreign memories was.

Bloody scenes like nothing he had every witnessed, with a dark laughing face and the feel of icy steal in his chest exploded behind his eyes.

Thrashing—body seized by terror of the unknown—Dante plummeted under the waves again, choking down mouthfuls of brine.

As shockingly as it had begun, the flood of images and sensations quickly faded. Leaving him cold and shaking under the waves.

Regaining himself, Dante struck towards the surface, gasping, dots blinking in his vision. She was still there. Dante could feel her in the back of his head, curling in on herself like a wounded animal, cloistered away. It was as though a wall had been erected between them and he had no idea how to reach out or communicate with her.

She was as lost to him as his understanding of the situation. Spluttering, mystified, he waited right there in the cold sea until his stanch crew dutifully maneuvered the _Hourglass_ within range and threw him a lifeline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun with this chapter, especially bringing Zelda in early on, Wind Waker style!


	4. Chapter 4

_Kyra_

The air had a fresh, crisp tang to it that was singular to early mornings by the water. Birds chirped, a light breeze sang through the evergreen needles, and the constant lapping of water on the rocky beach pulled Kyra further into the haze of her self imposed crucible. She was running along the uneven shore, feet landing soft and sure on the dead pine needles. It was still early. Under the canopy of green, she could make out a few fading stars in the east as the sky lightened. Just the barest hint of orange brushed the nearby mountain peaks.

Her body had begun to burn with exertion a long time ago and she reveled in it. The thrill of pain helped her stay grounded, mentally centered on forcing her own rebellious body to continue. And nothing else. If her thoughts strayed to the glowing triangle that pulsed softly on her left hand, they were quickly yanked back to the steady beat of feet on the dirt as she weaved in between the trees, following faint game trails, occasionally leaping over fallen logs.

If she thought about the impossibility of her situation, the implications of this power… If she thought about _anything_ really, that was an excuse to go faster, push harder, until there was no possibility of focusing on anything but the pain.

Rocks slipped under her soft shoes, her breathing was labored and Kyra pushed harder as light crept down the slopes.

Yesterday evening the Gerudo warrior had been catapulted into a situation that strayed too far from the norm for her to comprehend or deal with directly. The sudden earthquake and streaking lights had been alarming enough but the falling star that inexplicably collided with her body brought with it a whole host of impossible questions.

And visions…

She could still feel someone else’s panic... see blood rushing down a green-clad chest she knew couldn’t be hers. She could see a woman, through the eyes of one who obviously cared deeply for her, fighting with bright and powerful magic.

And the last image she’d seen—as an unseen weight settled into her body—was a haunting impression: a dark smile surrounded by billowing purple fire.

Kyra grit her teeth, growling as the image stubbornly resurfaced again. It was like the constant grittiness of the desert sands. You could meticulously clean out all your possessions, feel pride at a job well down, and then not five minutes later discover a persistent patch of sand pooled in a tender spot. It was a never-ending battle.

Maybe if she ran faster, exhaustion would block out the dread and bewilderment threatening to overwhelm her mind.

Normally she’d be finished with exercise and busy breakfasting by now. Preparing the days activities while munching on bread and cheese and the sweet blackberries that grew so prevalently along the shore. At this point in the day, she’d be  picking berries for later snacking or doing some stretches if the other leaders were being lethargic and hadn’t gotten started yet.

This morning though, she refused to turn her legs around until her mind had quieted.

Unfortunately, it had already been many leagues farther than her usual distance and her thoughts were just as chaotic as before. Incessantly recalling the events of the last ten hours and trying to make sense of them. Her mind kept plucking out the same images and worrying over them insistently. Impa cold and scared. Colin huddling with the rest. The impossibly painful surge of energy in her body, like lightning in her veins.

That overwhelming surge of power, of pure energy she’d felt last night...   _that_ was impossible to deny, sure. But wielders of the Triforce were born, not made. Chosen before birth. And they couldn’t be killed… right? The wielder of the Triforce of Courage, Hero, protector of the land, wasn’t dead. It simply wasn’t possible. Not without a great battle. Not suddenly in the night. That was the way her own people died, not Hylians.

Once the pulsing light had subsided enough for Kyra to observe her surroundings, and the grating spine crushing pain had receded to a dull ache in her teeth, there had been a twenty-foot space separating her from the nearest person. A majority of the camp--assembled as they had been after her impromptu duel--was silent and staring at the lingering, glowing mark on her hand.

Initially, all she’d been able to recognize was a dense, unseen weight in her body that hadn’t existed before. She lay sprawled in the dirt, blinking. Then Impa had shoved her way to the edge of the ring. Her face, normally so stoic, was shaken.

“Kyra, how…” Impa had knelt next to the young Gerudo woman and, if possible, her expression became even bleaker upon inspecting Kyra’s left hand. The crowd began to mutter.

Calamity had struck.

The previous bearer of the Triforce of Courage was dead.

The Hero of Legends was gone.

“That’s the only explanation,” Impa had whispered, voice choked and face white as she gazed at the glowing triangle. The older woman had then raced off. Presumably to implement some esoteric Sheikah magic in order to ascertain whether or not this assumption was true. Older camp officials had bundled Kyra off to the medical tent, not knowing what else to do with her. A few huddled outside, conferring, while she glared at the pulsing golden triangle on her left hand.

“…just not possible. This is not tradition!” She could hear their heated muttering through the thin tent walls. “A _Gerudo_ in position of Courage? This must be some kind of divine prank.”

“Not a prank. A punishment. This is a sign of divine judgment for the immoral ways of the unfaithful.” That was Yansan. A religious leader determined to turn every situation into a preachable moment. And consequently, that usually involved monetary compensation for ones transgressions.

“Please, you say that about everything. There _must_ be some kind of mistake. It’s just not right. We must do something—”

Their words prompted Kyra to slip out of the tent, leaving the flustered medical attendant and the old men to their speculation. The lively camp was suddenly stifling. Organized in neat rows with lanes in-between, there wasn’t space for loitering or abstract contemplation. Luckily her tent was out of the way, near the water and far away from the main body of the camp. Kyra sat in front of her shelter as true night set in and the gentle lapping of the lake did nothing to calm her turmoil.

She felt numb, uncomprehending. Kyra just gazed inertly out at the water until she could no longer stand the familiarity of of the once soothing sound. After mechanically changing into loose running clothes, she had headed to the dirt trails when the moon was still high in the night sky.

If she pushed fast enough, long enough, hard enough, her mind would be too exhausted to think about the consequences of the glow, the images...

Her pace increased again, almost without meaning to. Feeling in her legs narrowed to a dull haze. It wasn’t quite panic she was experiencing but it was close. So frighteningly close. A kind of helpless rage, a feeling of uncomprehending vulnerability. It was rising up, clawing at her throat.

Over the years, her skin had become thick to the comments of strangers, to the harsh words and cruel deeds. The naked distrust. She couldn’t change them. Only build up the muscle and skill to fight when necessary and the patience and endurance to ignore the rest.

“Just keep going, love, they don’t matter. Keep going.” The sound of bridle and bit jangling gently while horse hooves clomped on the dirt were sounds that always accompanied childhood memories of her father. When the Hylians further inland had started to notice she was not just a redhead, when they had started to deny him work and refuse to trade with him because of his association with her. Because of what she was.

Just keep going…

" _I understand the sentiment, but this isn't something you can run off_." A sad, eerie and intruding voice echoed inside her head.

Kyra lurched, steps stuttering for a moment before she recovered.

It had taken a few hours after the initial incident for her to recognize that more than the Triforce had entered her body. Sitting alone outside her tent, Kyra had realized that a second presence was there, hovering, like a wounded creature, coiled up somewhere in the back of her subconscious, terrifying in its possibilities.

That was when she’d started running.

“ _The Triforce can increase many of your physical attributes and strengths but it’s not infallible...  or indefinite. You’re going to hurt yourself._ ” his voice was soft, subdued by sorrow.

Kyra didn’t stop.

She knew who that voice belonged to, knew that only death caused the kind of grief he was experiencing. And she knew with utter certainty, that if she stopped, she would be forced to _feel_ again. Feel a strikingly familiar pain and anger that she had spent years of her life carefully stifling with layer after layer of calm indifference.

She couldn’t allow that feeling to take hold.

Instead, the Gerudo woman increased her speed to an almost reckless pace, dodging and weaving in and out of trees on the narrow path.

Something nudged at her mind. An idea, perhaps, a half formed thought that the Hero was trying to convey but couldn’t find the words for. Maybe he was trying to comfort her, explain some things. It was obvious the emotional connection between them was a surprise and he was unsure how to use it.

In any case, Kyra couldn’t tell because she automatically shoved against the intrusive, impossible contact. And in the brief struggle, whatever he was trying to express was overshadowed by other memories, more powerful and fresh that flooded through the bridge of their minds instead.

_A massive black sword that pulsed with a dark, forbidding magic—blood from an unseen source, pooling on the floor of a grand stone room—a cloud of shimmering triangles unnervingly associated with cold steal._

All were similar in nature to the unnerving images that had inadvertently flooded her mind when he’d first entered her consciousness. The reason she’d known exactly who he was.

“Ahh!” Kyra gasped, trying to keep the trail in focus, fighting against the intrusion.

A growl sounded from Link as he struggled to contain the violent images and prevent them from spilling over into her mind. “ _I’m sorry_ .” His ethereal voice sounded almost as strained as she felt. “ _It seems like part of me doesn't understand that my body is gone. It keeps trying to bleed into yours._ ”

His trauma was a fresh aching wound. It was understandable that it was still bleeding.

And it probably didn’t help that she was adamantly trying to push him out. Kyra immediately stopped. Mentally allowing space between them. Not pulling him closer but not pushing him away either. It was the most bizarre experience, like playing tug a war with her thoughts. Shaking her head, as if that would tumble all the oddities into order, Kyra redoubled her physical efforts. Pumping her arms and legs in furious tandem. She only wanted to feel the pang of exertion. The sensation, almost like flying, as swift feet made the ground fall away. Only wanted to hear water crashing against the rocky shore and the light even tread of her footfalls. Comforting sounds. Familiar.

“ _I can help.”_ His voice was tentative, softer. He didn’t try to convey emotions through their bond again but Kyra could still feel them vaguely, like a reflection in running water, indistinct and warped.“ _I can explain, a little bit, about what happened… I can sense your confusion… Your anger.”_

Her pace didn’t slacken. Along with all the other things she didn’t want to think about, her emotions were at the top of the list.

Perhaps he thought her frustration was directed at him because he tried to explain. “ _I’m sorry I didn’t say anything at first_ … _I—”_

“I know.” Kyra managed to gasp out. He didn’t need to justify his silence. She of all people knew how precious that was. Besides, the situation was too nonsensical for words.

He was murdered and the Triforce jumped to a new, preexisting body, dragging him along? Who could have predicted that? It didn’t match with the legends at all. She was just as confused and overwhelmed by this turn of events as he seemed to be.

Her quick steps continued and he seemed to be considering something.

“ _I can remember something now; a message from the Goddesses_.”

“Wha—” Another stutter step. She almost slowed, her breathing was ragged and every muscle in her body was crying out for rest. The miles were taking their toll.

The speed especially was difficult to maintain yet definitely worth every moment of blessed, distracting pain. Physical pain was familiar, easy. If she stopped there would be room for other, more unpleasant feelings to move in. A small part of her knew she was being childish, that she was just running away from her problems, but the rest of her didn’t care.

Despite having many more reasonable options, the Gerudo warrior kept on running.

“ _I think they whispered it to me, right before bestowing the Triforce on you._ ”

Too busy gasping to respond, Kyra tried to block out the importance of what he was saying. She could tell he was trying to entice her with information.

“ _It’s directions for what to do next. Do you want to hear it?_ ”

Blood was pounding loudly in her ears and the rasping of her breath should have been enough to drown him out. Directions? What about an explanation? That seemed more necessary at the moment.

“ _Kyra, you’ve been at this for hours. If you exhaust your body now, you won’t be able to protect Wisdom when she arrives._ ”

Another stutter step almost sent her sprawling. What did that mean? What did he remember?

“Can you...  elaborate on that?” She gasped out. It felt like each breath was releasing more oxygen than it was taking in.

A pause. “ _I know this is sudden and dealing with the Goddesses is always confusing but I’m asking that you stop running now and I’ll explain as much as I can when you’re ready to hear it.”_

Sands! This man knew what he was asking. He had just died for the cause he was asking her to take part in and at the same time the great Hero was making an effort to be considerate towards her feelings. Treating her like a person, not a Gerudo. Though, it was very possible he wasn’t aware of her origins or nationality.

Regardless, it was probably time to stop running like a frightened child. She’d indulged in the wild instinct for long enough.

He waited silently as her legs began to slow, body succumbing to the allure of a respite without an obstinate will to drive it onward. After six hours, Kyra’s legs were wobbly as a newborn dear when she finally stumbled to a halt. She weaved dizzily for a moment before abruptly dropping to all fours and heaving up bile, rasping breaths interrupting her stomach’s effort to hurl its way up and out her mouth.

Wiping a shaky hand over her lips, she moved to straighten but instead, her traitorous body tipped sideways into the dirt. She grunted, rolling onto her back, disoriented. Pine bows danced dizzily overhead and spots blinked in and out of existence. Pain blossomed in every corner of her body. It reminded her of the astounding array of aches and pains that had peppered her body when she’d first begun to train with her father as a child.

“ _You need recovery fluids._ ”

Kyra heard herself snort, “There isn’t exactly… a potions stand nearby.” She wheezed, rolling slowly onto her stomach and pressing her face into the cool earth. And she stayed there, fighting down another wave of nausea.

“ _If you focus, you can feel a discrepancy in the air just over your left hand. It’s no bigger than a keyhole.”_

Blinking blurrily, Kyra dragged her left hand forward and noticed that indeed, there was a weird puckering in the air just above the golden triangle.

“ _Reach for it with your right hand._ ”

Grumbling from the upset of moving her body yet again, she did as instructed. As soon as her fingers came in contact with the anomaly, Kyra found herself instantly transported into a well-organized storeroom. It was silent, cool and dark. There were rows of wooden shelves surrounded by a black void, spotted here and there by wall torches. Kyra was in the same position she had been; only now the fragrant dirt had been replaced with cool stone. No real walls existed around her, just decades worth of shelved travel and war equipment.

Shelf upon shelf of swords, arrows, bombs, camping gear, cooking utensils, dried food, clothes, saddles, everything one would need to survive in the wilderness was here. Some weapons were much older; more decrypted than their newer counterparts yet still obviously functional and kept right alongside the latest items, neat and tidy.

“ _On the left_ ,” Link whispered in her head, perhaps sensing her awed distraction.

She stood up on angry, pulsing legs and painfully waddled over to a shelf teaming with dozens of colorful potion bottles, ranging from stamina elixirs to odd concoctions that Kyra couldn’t identify. “What is this place?” She asked slowly, reaching for a red potion.

“ _It was described to me by the princess as a ‘pocket dimension’. I don’t really understand how it works but essentially it exists for us and no one else. When you enter, you disappear completely from the real world and can store basically anything in here. Except yourself._ ”

The cool potion was sweet relief on her aching throat. Kyra chugged it in three gulps, feeling her body gratefully accept the healing draft. Though much fatigue remained.

“Except yourself?” Kyra stoppered the now empty bottle and set in on a lower shelf with a few other clear, hollow ones.

“ _Zelda said that it was dangerous to spend too long in here. I can’t explain more than that. You’ll have to ask her when she arrives._ ” His tone held a hint of tender sadness.

“How do you know she’s coming?” The keyhole still hung above her hand so she touched it experimentally and was instantly back on the dirt trail.

“ _The message from the goddesses was refreshingly straightforward_. ‘Meet At The Place, Oh Chosen Heroes, Where The Blood Of The Land Pumps Forth.’ _I’m almost certain that’s Lake Hylia._ _Then_ , ‘Gather Together Those Of Great Courage, Power And Wisdom, For These Will Be The Ones To Restore The Land. Four Chosen You Will Find: One On A Snowy Mountain Peak, The Second Where Stones Flow Like Water, The Third Where The Desert Sands Glow And The Fourth At The Last Reflection Of The Scarlet Maiden.’” There was no inflection in his voice to clue her into what his opinion was as he repeated these grand instructions.

Pressing the keyhole, Kyra went back and forth between the real world and the storeroom a few times to get a feel for it while mulling over the new information. “It’s a traditional Hero's journey. Just like the old Legends… nothing else about our situation seems similar, though.”  She said, mentally running through stories that every Hylain learned as a child.

His presence seemed to shift, hovering in a cloud around her. Apparently, it wasn’t centralized. When he spoke again, she glanced down at the Triforce on her hand, imagining him there.

“ _No, I certainly wasn’t expecting this._ ” There was a tinge of bitterness to his soft voice that he was evidently trying to smother.

Kyra settled down with her back to a tree. “So… what happened to you?”

Link’s mood was strained and ashamed. “ _I lost. Ganondorf took over the castle and… Well… I don’t know what happened after I died_.”

Without realizing it, Kyra stopped breathing and her heart rate increased tenfold.

Cold sweat broke out all over her body.

Ganondorf.

She’d had her suspicions but was holding out hope that it was some other enemy that had managed to defeat the Hero. But no, of course it was him.

The patriarch of her society… the only person that could insure the continuation of her peoples… the father of her tribe. Her enemy.

“I’ll have to fight him.”

The Hero said nothing, as if he could sense her indignation.

Kyra let her head fall back against the trunk, an ironic, frustrated, helpless chuckle escaping from her lips. “If you couldn’t beat him, what makes you think I can?”

“ _When we faced him… there was no warning. No allies to call upon, nowhere to run._ ” He paused for a moment and Kyra gave him his silence.

_“This isn’t public knowledge but in this life, I’ve never actually gone on a traditional Hero's journey. Zelda and I were starting to get quite anxious about it. It’s almost like... I was meant to die_.” He sighed and there was confusion and fresh sorrow in his voice.

“ _I don’t have any real answers for you but Zelda will._ ”

“You think she’s alive? That she escaped somehow?” It was hard to keep the skepticism out of her voice.

“ _We had plans in place incase I was to one day lose a battle: secret passages and Sheikah technology to use along the way out of the city. If anyone could make it, it’s her.”_

“And you want us to just wait here and hope that she will eventually show up?” Going to search for the princess seemed not only practical but also far safer for everyone involved. Not to mention infinitely preferable to waiting around a camp full of angry chauvinists with the Triforce on her hand.

“ _Yes. Here you have Impa and all the resources at her disposal. The Sheikah spy network is expansive and supplemented with advanced technology. If and when Zelda is able to contact Impa, we need to be here and ready to go to her location or wait for her to transport to us if she’s able_.”

Kyra’s stomach soured. “That makes sense.” Kyra said reluctantly, acquiescing to his indisputable practicality. It was obvious there was a lot both she and Link didn’t know. The Sheikah could help fill in the gaps.

With a sigh, Kyra stood and turned to look back the way she’d come, towards the camp. Towards the ministers, officials and masters who were no doubt searching for her. If they already thought her a dangerous bandit, what would they think now?

A sharp groan escaped her and Kyra squatted down, scrubbing at her sweaty face with both hands. They’d probably accuse her of stealing Courage somehow and corrupting their Goddesses.

She squinted her eyes shut. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.

But then… life never was. It had always been this way: improbable situations and terrible odds. An resigned sigh escaped her.

Then the young Gerudo woman took a few deep breaths. And through sheer force of will, reigned in her emotions and stood up.

There was no way to avoid it. She was an adult with a job to do.

She had to go back.

Warm sympathy radiated from Link and it felt like he was about to say something but then he stopped short and asked, “ _What’s your name?”_ as if the question had only just occurred to him.

And oddly, the question surprised her too. There was such a strong connection between them that she’d nearly forgotten they’d never properly introduced themselves.

“Kyra, Daughter of Konna.” She told him. It was common for Gerudo women to introduce themselves using their mother’s names, though it was a custom Kyra was rarely in a position to indulge in.

“ _Kyra,”_ He said experimentally, testing it out, " _You obviously know who I am so I'll be blunt here_.  _I think it’s important you understand that the Goddesses chose you as the most worthy successor for the Triforce of Courage._ _Not one of the many knights of Hyrule assembled here, not one of the master Sheikah_. _You_. _No one can deny the proof on your hand.”_

Unexpected warmth bloomed in her, spreading from her chest to tingle at her fingertips. This was coming from the Hero of Legends. That meant something, even to a Gerudo like her.

And yet…

“Link… Do you… do you know what I am?” The question was hard to get out. If he knew about her ethnicity, his bolstering confidence in her would evaporate in an instant.

_“I know that you are filled with a resounding determination I have rarely seen in another person…. And I have seen since coming into your body that you are persecuted because of your Gerudo parentage.”_ He said this slowly, carefully, and Kyra held her breath.

_“I imagine you are a person that knows great suffering and, it seems to me, that those are the people who can make the greatest change. I’m glad the Goddesses chose you.”_

Kyra gasped out a shocked breath. Did he really mean that?

“Do you realize the kind of reactions people are going to have when they see a _Gerudo_ bearing the Triforce of Courage? They’ll reject me or claim I stole it… Many will try to hinder whatever progress we make... There will be violence wherever I go. I’m already having conflicted feelings about fighting the man who murdered you. This, it—it can’t work.” For the first time in a long time, Kyra felt utterly devoid of hope. She’d been given an impossible task.

Link was quiet for a long time.

“ _I don’t know why things happened this way, for either of us. But I do know that if we do nothing… Ganon will slaughter more… I already failed to protect the kingdom once. I don’t want to fail again_.” He was beseeching, a palpable determination in his spirit.

“ _But the choice is yours_ .” He continued softly, with more understanding than she deserved. “ _To fight for a cause that’s not your own against a problem you didn’t create… or walk away_.”

There was no judgment in his voice. He meant it. It really was her choice. He didn’t curse and say that she was being a petulant child and he had literally _died_ fighting so that others could live and soldier on. That would have been more than fair.

Yet, Kyra heard what he wasn’t saying. That no one else would be in a better position to fight than her, no one else had the training or the benefit of Link’s guidance. No one had the experience necessary to handle the hardships to follow. No one else had the Triforce of Courage.

No one but her.

The corners of her mouth twitched in wry amusement.

This was the same as it always had been; resilience was as much a part of her as her eyes or skin. The only difference this time around was that the stakes were a little higher. This time, maybe she could change how the whole world saw her people—make life better not just for herself but for a whole generation of Gerudo.

If it was impossible, why not try? The worst she could do was fail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's liked this story! It's really nice to know that people are enjoying it :)


	5. Chapter 5

_ Midna _

* * *

"HEY! You dropped MY cargo! Of all the crates to be careless with…" A small girl with an upper tooth missing rolled her eyes as she waltzed over to her brother. Hands on hips she leaned down slightly, surprised that he was still doubled over. She thought he had just gotten a splinter or something but then she noticed sweat trickled through his shaggy hair and his eyes were unseeingly locked on the wood planks beneath his feet.

Her smile dropped. "Hey, what's wrong?" She asked, a note of genuine worry in her voice

"I… Nothing. It’s..."Abruptly, the young captain straightened and whipped his head back and forth, shaking out his damp sandy hair like a dog.

"Eww," Midna commented dryly, flicking off a foreign droplet of sweat that had landed on her arm. She tried to look up at him but the sun was glaring in her eyes so she circled around in front to get a better look at his pale, pensive face. "You look kinda sick. Why don't you… go sit down or something?"

He shook his head again "No I'm fine, I just… I don't know. I… I feel normal now." Shrugging his shoulders he looked down and gave her a reassuring smile. It was the kind of carefully pleasant look he usually reserved for uncooperative business associates. A false face. Midna's eyes narrowed.

There was definitely something off with him. The normally capable captain was itching at the wrappings covering his right hand, agitation clear in the movement. Normally, he pretended such injuries were of no conscience but today he wrapped a supposedly small cut? An injury he’d received last night after insisting she remain locked away and useless. Typical of him. Lecture her about being in danger and then dash directly into it himself. Midna rolled her eyes at the thought.

When she’d snuck out on deck last night only to find his exhausted from being hauled from the ocean, her stomach had given a sickening lurch of concern followed quickly by a wave of vindictive pleasure. Maybe now he would realize that she was just as useful on deck as he was.

It seemed unlikely, though, as Dante was squinting up at the approaching storm clouds. He always managed to forget about the important things. 

"The sky won't be clear for much longer. We should finish unloading." He said, turning around and quickly stooping down to pick up the box she had traded for and loaded in meticulous secrecy.  

"What's in this anyway?" He asked, holding the box aloft and rattling it slightly. He already knew it was a surprise. And he must know she wouldn’t say.

Diversion, redirection… whatever was bothering her brother, he clearly did not want to talk about it. Fine. She’d play along. Time and patience might reveal what her brother wouldn’t.

Strolling up next him, Midna grinned deviously, gape showing. "Nothing for you to concern yourself with right now, my good man." She drawled in a perfect imitation of the shifty dockworkers they so often dealt with in port.

An unforced grin spread across his face at the familiar banter and he tousled her short messy hair, "Whatever you say, little lady".

He seemed a little relieved that she had let the matter drop. Was he letting her keep her secrets in exchange for his own, perhaps?

She felt an odd swirling of anxiety and guilt as his fingers left her hair and he moved to walk away. Allowing him some privacy was one thing but after his little swim last night, what if he was really sick or something? And he was obviously trying very hard to divert her attention—

Without warning, a sickeningly soggy finger stabbed into her ear, wiggling a bit before promptly being yanked out again as Dante ran off. The initial disgust startled Midna so much that her brother was already halfway down the gangway before she gave chase. A few members of the crew straightened, grinning as the familiar sound of their captain's playful laughter streaked past followed by the young lady's high-pitched and colorful cursing.

Their heated chase ducked in and out of the maze of crates being unloaded onto the dock. Midna, determined to pounce on his head from above then stick fingers in  _ both _ his ears, frantically climbed up and between boxes of any and all sizes, hands—sweaty from exertion and the humidity—leaving an impression on the sturdy wood. Her brother’s deep chuckling taunted her. She’d catch a glimpse of him as he leaped away whenever she came close. Splinters! Almost had him, just two crates between them, one more jump—

"Ah! Dante my friend, you're a day early," A swarthy man in light red robes, heading a column of what Midna assumed were business associates, was approaching along the dock. In a flash of brilliance, Midna threw herself behind a couple of large wooden crates, hidden from view, breathing hard. Then she peaked up over a crate to watch the show.

Her brother skidded to a halt; chest heaving slightly as he glanced between the approaching professionals and where his pursuer had just disappeared. As he realized the rather embarrassing image he made, an ironic grin spread across his face. Instead of an apologetic or frazzled expression, her brother raked a hand through his damp hair with a vindictive flourish and turned to face the group with a polite, collected smile. Storms!

"Beedle!” He called,  “It’s good to see you. We were graced with some favorable winds on the way down the coast," Dante stepped forward to greet the swarthy man and the two warmly clasped forearms. From behind her crates, Midna noted the tan skin at her brother’s neck turning red and grinned triumphantly. Dante was good at pretending but he couldn’t hide the flush of exertion or the ribbons of sweat running down his neck.

If he noticed her brothers disheveled state, which Midna was sure he did, Beedle didn’t seem to care. He was a good friend to have in this business. Somewhere between thirty and forty, he still had a vigorous youthfulness about him that was very approachable. His boisterous personality and earnest eyes put people at ease and on friendly terms instantly, while his clever tongue and trade intelligence made him one of the most successful entrepreneurs in Castle Town.

And he was honest about his lies. Midna knew she could trust him to treat her brother fairly.

The affluent trader slung an arm comfortably over Dante’s shoulders, turning to nod back towards the group following him. “You know most of these folk already I’m sure. Hylla, Ray you’ve met Dante haven’t you? Excellent!” He turned back to Dante with excitement and mischief lighting up his dark eyes. “We were just inspecting some of the new models for the Zora expedition. Quite the undertaking it’s turned out to be but everyone involved has really stepped up to the task. Bunch of heroes, this lot.”

To that comment there was an answering chorus of “Oh well we couldn’t have done it without you leading the charge!” and “Nonsense, group effort.” and of course a sickening fluttering of hands as if to wave off the compliment. Midna rolled her eyes at the group of supposedly experienced investors, traders and nobility that managed to be so oblivious to Beedle’s maneuvering.

“If you all’d like to continue on with the inspection, I’ll catch up shortly.”

Note to self: if you want to get away from anybody, put him or her in a good mood first.

As the Castle Town elite strode off down the dock once again, Beedle let his arm slip off of her brother’s shoulder and gave him a genuine smile, “It’s good to see you back in one piece.” his voice had lowered to a more intimate tone and Midna strained to hear.

“It was worth it.” Dante replied with a wide grin. “The Northern Isles were even more spectacular than we were lead to believe. I brought back some artifacts I think you’ll really appreciate.”

An odd gleam entered the swarthy man’s eyes, “I can’t wait to see them. Tonight?”

Midna wasn’t sure but it looked like her brother’s ears were turning red. Odd, they weren’t even running anymore. She shifted higher between the crates to get a better look but the movement drew Beedle’s eye.

"Ah! There you are. I barely recognized you're brother's shadow without you in it." His warm voice projected towards her and Midna rewarded the observant man with a wide, toothy grin as she scrambled up over the crates. Bounding over to them, Midna skidded to a halt next to her brother, teetering on the balls of her feet before falling firmly back on her heels.

"I have the cargo we discussed, sir." Schooling her features, her air abruptly became professional.

Dante glanced at his business partner questioningly but Beedle just smiled at Midna. “Good work, lassie. And I see you managed to keep the ship on time  _ and _ your brother alive so that means a bonus for you!”

A glowing smile lit her face as she looked out at her brother from under the shower of praise.

“He wanted to bring back ten times the artifacts requested but I talked him down.” She said pointing an accusatory finger at her brother.

Dante rolled his eyes, “Please. A few extra curios would have hardly affected our travel time. Besides, what I did take will make invaluable additions to the archive on ancient Zora culture.”

“Sounds like the expedition was indeed fruitful. I can’t wait to hear about it.” Beedle said as he reached down to ruffle her hair. Why did everyone do that? Was there something inherently doglike about her head that made everyone want to pet it? She shoved his hand away and scampered behind her brother, into the safety of his shadow. Only to peek around owlishly and glare when the two men started laughing.

A loud clap of thunder sounded overhead, sobering them slightly. Light was fading as the clouds moved in.

Beedle eyed the rolling sky above. "Well, looks like that's my cue to leave. We can talk more on the morrow, eh, Dante? Just drop by when you’re finished. I’ll send some men by to help unload the cargo."

He was already walking away with a wave and smile, just as quickly as he’d come.

“He’s my favorite.” Midna whispered conspiratorially to her brother. And he squatted down to give her a one-armed squeeze while his eyes followed the retreating man. He wasn’t smiling.

There was a tension in his neck and shoulders, a strain or worry weighing him down that she couldn’t identify. Eyes distant, he stood back up. “Let’s get the delicate stuff on the carts before the other men come, shall we?”

Midna pressed her lips together, “Yeah, ok.” She said eyeing him as he began walking back towards the deck. Her brother was usually so unguarded. What was going on?

 

* * *

 

_ Dante _

 

" _ Well I'm certainly impressed. To be on such good terms with THE Beedle at this stage in your career certainly speaks to your skills as a tradesmen. _ "

Dante started, almost tripping on his way back up the gangway. The presence in his mind had been utterly silent since the initial incident, even during that odd flash of forbidding earlier. He’d nearly forgotten she was there.

Almost as if she was aware of his line of thinking, she said, “ _ I apologize for my absence but we need to speak immediately. _ ” Her voice held none of the vulnerability she’d shown before, only the authoritative tenor of one who is used to being obeyed.

"Midna," Dante said slowly, "Tell Senza to start unloading, will you? I need to check on something."

She looked at him oddly, "Ahh sure?"

"I won't' be long," He reassured her mechanically as he moved back up on deck and towards the deserted aft section.

“ _ Hopefully not,”  _ the disembodied voice said,  _ “Now listen carefully, last night I only told you part of what happened. The part I experienced and understood, but there is more. The Goddesses also gave us a message and I’ve only just puzzled out what it means. You need to take this vessel down river immediately. From Hylia Lake we’ll reconvene with the other divine piece and begin a journey of great importance. _ ”

“This ship will  _ not _ sail down river, it’s meant for ocean travel!” Dante hissed, not wanting to be overheard.

“ _ Then board a craft that can navigate shallow waters _ .” The woman said simply, expectantly. If she had a body, Dante could imagine her flippantly tossing her hand while she gave the order.

He felt irrationally irritated. The absence of that voice had lent Dante a brief hope that what had happened last night—the crashing stars, the voice in his head—was simply the product of a severely concussed mind. Not real. Even the intense sense of forbidding he’d experienced that morning could be passed off as false intuition.

However, there were a few things he couldn’t deny. The presence in his head was too singular, too idiosyncratic to be a figment of his imagination. She was real. And the softly glowing triangle on his right hand, clumsily concealed with wrappings, that was real—alarmingly so.

The stress started to leak out in his hushed voice, “I can’t just up and leave! I have an important cargo to unpack and distribute, a business partner to meet with, countless calculations for the next voyage and of course there’s Midna. She would never tolerate being left behind—”

“ _ Dante, have you heard news of what happened at the Castle? About my death?” _

That question brought him up cold.

He hadn’t heard anything about an attack or a royal death. That would indicate either it didn’t’ happen, which he was inclined to believe, or someone was influential enough to keep it quite. And the implications of that were disturbing, considering whom the dead person was and the port he was in. The young Captain looked up at the looming castle at the center of the city.

“No I haven’t. Which means that you’re lying, I’m going crazy or…”

“ _ Or you, and everyone around you, is in very serious danger. The Triangle on your hand should be proof enough that you’re not losing your wits, though you could cause me to lose mine if you don’t listen carefully and move quickly. The longer you linger here the more danger you’re in. Physical proximity can result in a corporeal sensation in the body when Triforce pieces are near each other, which means if Ganon gets too close, he’ll know you’re here. _ ”

Dante remained immobile, as if winds from the North had blown in unexpectedly and frozen him in place. She kept talking, sending shard after shard of jagged ice down his spine.

_ “What’s more, Ganon slaughtered most of the Castle guard, the reigning monarch and the Hero of Legends. That’s not something you can keep quiet easily. The only way I can imagine accomplishing that would be commandeering what remained of the Shekiah spy network to gather information for him and quarantining off the remaining Castle staff, which would require a phenomenal amount of energy. Enough that he would have to stay very close to the Castle to maintain it. That guarantees you some small safety but I wouldn’t gamble your on it… What I’m wondering is why? Why not make it public and announce his victory to all of Hyrule? What is he accomplishing be remaining silent? _ ”

She just kept talking. like her mind was jumping from thought to thought so rapidly she had to get the words out or they would be lost in the tide of musings. The emotions coming from her were focused and analytical. And it stimulated the curious part of Dante’s mind.

“It’s almost like something unexpected happened, like he’s recalculating a route or… looking for you!” Dante said, more than a little horrified at the realization, and surprise briefly colored her emotions. He didn’t think she was expecting a response. But if the Princess was going to have a one-sided conversation inside his head she better get used to him offering his opinion. 

Besides, a world ending entity and dire circumstances were easier to accept than losing the one thing about himself Dante had always treasured most.

A cool breeze shifted his hair as she answered.

“ _ Well, that first part is easy to confirm. In many of our past lives, Ganondorf has captured and used me as a lure for Link. In some cases he has even been able to siphon some of Wisdoms power for himself. But this time, Link was k _ —” Her voice choked off without warning and she paused for a moment to compose herself. Dante waited, his brows furrowed, hands clenched to the wood railing.

When she continued her voice was harder than before, “ _ When Link fell, I decided that it was too much of liability leaving Wisdom in Ganon’s hands for the time it would take Courage to reincarnate and mature in another _ . _ So I eliminated myself from the earthly equation.” _

She said it so clinically, so calmly, it took Dante a moment to realize what she was implying.

“Wait, you—you killed yourself?” He was at once horrified and awestruck.

The Princess sighed quietly, “ _ I have lived many lives, young Captain. Believe me when I tell you, watching a blade pass through Links chest was far more difficult than putting one in my own _ .”

Dante had no answer to that. Suddenly, his image of her as a precocious princess changed quite dramatically.

“ _ But back to the main issue. I think you are correct in assuming from his lack of action that Ganon did not plan on losing both Wisdom and Courage to the void, and is now reshuffling his plans. That puts us at an advantage for we can safely infer Ganon doesn’t realize that the two divine pieces never returned to the Heavens, as is tradition. Therefore—” _

“Wait, so I’m not entirely naive? This whole, phantom ghost companion and sudden Triforce embodiment isn’t normal procedure?”

“ _ Hardly. I had no inclination this would happen when I destroyed my earthly body. We’re now in uncharted waters, without legends of old to guide our steps. But it is of the utmost importance that we leave here immediately. Otherwise, Ganon could become aware of our presence by chance. Or by design, I suppose, if he decided to explore all avenues of possibility.” _

“Alright, first things first then.” Dante sucked in a deep breath, his heart beating too fast. “I have to leave… but where am I going?”

“ _ Hylia Lake is our first stop. And, since prior evidence suggests that the Divine pieces are usually treated in a similar fashion, I’m hopeful Courage will be waiting for us there. Though, in what capacity, I am unsure. _ ” 

He could feel her thinking again. That peculiar, tickling sensation of being able to sense others emotions was something he would never get used to. Dante took another bracing gulp of sea air.

“Ok, ok… alright. Here we go. We can do this. I can do this.” He had to hype himself up otherwise the petrifying fear would keep him rooted at this very spot on the deck for the rest of his life. “First, I have to tell Beedle. He’s the only one who can take care of everything while I’m gone.”

He paused, automatically looking for Zelda’s approval before moving forward with the plan. She was privy to far more knowledge than him, after all. 

She hesitated before saying, “ _ If you think that’s best. I have no reason to disapprove. _ ” and there was almost a nod behind her words that reassured Dante. 

“Alright then. I have to catch up to Beedle, entrust him with the cargo, and Midna, then immediately book passage down river.” With a shove, Dante threw himself away from the railing before he could change his mind. Striding quickly to the port side of the ship, Dante made sure none of the crew were looking his way before snatching a nearby rope. And, moving with a skill that bespoke years of practice, he wrapped his hands and feet around the thick rope fibers and swung down onto the dock below. 

“We can do this. Not a problem.” He muttered encouragingly to himself, and Zelda, as he ducked down behind a crate, carefully avoiding the watchful eye of his sister. “Find Courage, work together to thwart whatever plan Ganon manages to conjure up. Come back and resell my artifacts. Easy.” His hands were shaking as Dante shuffled between hiding places and away form the  _ Hourglass.  _ Until finally he could dive into the colorful, crowded lanes of the wharf and disappear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little late in the evening but here you go!


	6. Chapter 6

_ Kyra _

* * *

 

A storm front was forming over the Blue Mountains in the east. Kyra eyed it clinically from her vantage point on the lake side. A perpetual breeze came off the water and stirred her fresh clean clothes and she closed her eyes. Judging by the clouds movements, they still had several hours of calm before the storm hit.

After her lengthy excursion, Kyra had come back to her tent. Wheezing slightly as she went through her normal routine with stiff, clumsy muscles. Her body had not taken kindly to constant movement and no food. The sun was already high by the time she’d stripped off her soaked running garments, bathed and painstakingly brushed and plaited her hair. Then, indulgently, she allowed herself a few moments by the water to just sit and breath.

Finally, with a huff, Kyra lifted herself from the rocks and walked the half-mile back into camp, following the scents and smells that wafted from it in an overpowering musk. Horses, pigs, and cuccos were kept in large pens on the southern side of camp, just upwind from her secluded tent, and Kyra walked past the creatures everyday on her way in. Animals made much better neighbors than people. They never eyed her with disdain or asked where she was going. Kyra even found that the human caretakers of such creatures were oft times much more to her liking than most. She even occasionally exchanged a wave with the Sheikah stable master. There was no one about now though, lessons were in full swing at this time of day. One of the roans nickered as she passed, the only sound to breach the quiet. Her foot falls were as soft as whispers in the grass.

Most of the camps inhabitants were either in the forest, the arena or on the lake, making the normally crowded lanes clear and empty. Her stomach rumbled in protest as she passed by the mess tent. There would be no food this time of day and she didn’t want to use her positions supply rashly. So it was with an unhappy stomach that Kyra steadily made her way to the command tent. 

Outside the large enclosure, the warrior stopped to listen and could hear muffled voices through the thick red fabric as well as the occasional raised voice. Link was in the back of her mind, calm and purposeful. His presence was oddly comforting considering why he was there. So Kyra didn’t consider it.

She took a deep breath, one hand muesing with the fabric of the entrance flap, then ducked inside. It was crowded and chaotic inside. 

There was a sizable number of Hyrule’s sovereignty here at the camp and apparently they had all squeezed into Impa’s command pavilion for the morning. 

There was an air of frantic energy coming from everyone inside. Lesser scribes jostled each other in their haste to pass around lengths of scrolls between themselves, scribbling something or other in the margins before passing it on. Verbal reports were being given from scouts struggling to make themselves heard in the mess of contradictory voices. 

Treasurers and accountants who usually sat behind the scenes, quietly ensuring everything was running smoothly and according to schedule, were in little huddles whispering and frowning. 

Each group was distinguished by a different color of stately robes. Simpler sashes were used for the active knights, who generally wore light mail and tunics with sashes denoting station and rank. The clerks who handled rupees where clothed in yellow and white, and those who handled the scheduling and scribing wore simple brown tunics. The heads of each division had no distinguishing marks that Kyra could see.

A large portion of Princesses personal Sheikah guard was here as well, to pass on the finest instruction possible to the next generation of Hyrule’s armies, they said. Though it seemed odd to Kyra to bring so many.

The knights and nobles, who’s normal responsibilities included border security and running the classes, were crammed in here as well. 

Impa was sitting at the center of it all, an island in the storm of people. Though she didn’t so much resemble a calm space as a void. There was an uncharacteristically vacant look in her eyes that shook Kyra to her core. It was a face so aged by grief she almost didn’t recognize the older woman. Kyra had to take this all in very quickly because as soon as she straightened fully inside the enclosure, all the movement and sound in the tent came to a grinding halt.

In the silence, Kyra let the tent flap fall behind her. 

They stared as if seeing a ghost. 

Kyra’s eyes sought Impa’s, desperate to see a spark of hope in those red irises.  

“What happened at the Castle?” Kyra asked quietly, dread already pooling in her stomach.

Impa’s gaze faltered. Her voice, when it came, was calm and detached. “Our spies say there was a slaughter. The Hero and Princess apparently faced Ganondorf alone, sealed off from their protectors by ancient magic.” The tent was eerily quiet. In Kyra’s head, Link waited.

“Neither survived.” Impa’s face crumpled slightly, shame, shock and something like sadness but much stronger flitted through her expression in a heartbeat. 

“ _ No _ ”

“Link…?” Kyra whispered under her breath, breaking eye contact with the Sheikah.

“ _ Nononononono _ ” If he still had a body, Kyra could picture him shaking his head in denial. “ _ If she were gone I would have felt it. She’s alive. She has to be… _ ” It was less anger or flat denial and more bewilderment Kyra felt from him. His memories were clear. Zelda had been alive when Link’s time ended. Ganondorf wouldn’t kill her, would he? In the stories he had always kept her alive as a hostage. 

“Unfortunately, that is all we really know.” Impa continued, recovering herself. An ingrained inquisitiveness lighting her eyes at Kyra’s odd reaction and distant gaze, which immediately refocused when the woman started speaking. “Ganon has yet to make another move on the city. And as far as we know, the populace has not been made aware of the events that occurred in the castle last night.”

Frowning slightly, Kyra nodded, taking in that odd piece of information. There was so much they didn’t know or understand about… their enemy. Why did he attack so suddenly? Why kill them both instead of trying to use the Triforce? Did he know it would be forced onto someone else's body? Someone more sympathetic to his cause? What was his cause exactly? That was something the histories were never clear on. Ganondorf just slaughtered. That was all she really knew about him from Hylian lore. Her own peoples stories were very different of course, but even they had a certain degree of bloodshed whenever the Dark Warrior was the topic of discussion. 

Kyra shook her head glancing back up at Impa. The tent was strangely hushed. As if they were waiting for her to make the next move. Because, of course, they were. 

She stole herself, gritting her teeth, then finally worked out, “I’ve been instructed to remain here for the time being and await Wisdoms arrival. Whether that will be in her original body or a new one… I wasn’t informed.” It was in that fake, formal voice that always came out when she was forced to speak in front of more than two people at a time. Kyra hated that voice.

Shock, disdain and disbelieving silence were the expectedly dismal responses to her statement. Most of the leaders here were unaccustomed to the dark-skinned warrior speaking in their presence, let alone holding a role of importance. Since Impa was primarily responsible for choosing the masters that would teach each year, many of the present company had fought vehemently against Kyra’s appointment at the camp when they’d learned about it. But they had no jurisdiction and Impa was a firm master.

Now however, all those objections they’d had of her before seemed to spring to the forefront of their minds once again. They spluttered and gaped and exclaimed their outrage, voices tumbling loudly over neighbors. 

Kyra’s head jerked back involuntarily at the force of their vehemence and she blinked a few times. Her nervousness suddenly evaporated. It was hard to be intimidated by a rabble of squawking of children. 

If they reacted so poorly to just the bare bones of her situation, Kyra couldn’t imagine the kerfuffle they’d put on if she told them the hero was  _ in her mind _ . 

Master Impa easily override them all by loudly clearing her throat. Though deep lines of grief made tracks around her mouth, Impa still held sway. Her gaze captured Kyra’s for a long moment. There were questions swirling in those bright red depths but Kyra couldn’t find the words to form an explanation. 

Finally, seeming to understand Kyra’s position or just feel comfortable with it in a way that was quintessentially Impa, the master nodded and said, “The Sheikah will aid the servants of the Goddesses in whatever way we can, of course. For now, I suppose that simply means sending out runners to observe and gather information.” The Sheikah said with a dry, self deprecating tilt to her lips. Then she stood up, and shook her head, as if waking from a hazy dream. “If there is any news from the Castle, we will inform you immediately. Until then, you should do as you see fit.”

Even after everything Impa had done—the opposition she’d publicly faced in support of a Gerudo—Kyra couldn’t help but feel impressed by her unflappable ability to take everything in stride. There was obviously a deep, aching wound in her heart where the Princess belonged. Kyra recognized the matching casumn in Link. And they both put forth an effort on her behalf.  

Kyra couldn’t help the tentative smile that spread across her face even as the tent erupted in protests of Impa’s ready endorsement.

Everyone began speaking at once. Shouting, actually. What Kyra could make out sounded mostly like fearful objections to her presence, questioning the Goddesses choices, the tragedy of it all, etc.

One man, who’d eyed her distrustfully from the start, raised his voice above the rest “She should at least wait elsewhere while we discuss the situation!” His yellow robes identified him as a money clerk, perhaps one of high rank considering his superior attitude. His pasty face was flushed with passion and there was a kind of flabbiness to him that bespoke a sedentary lifestyle. Squinty eyes flashed in indignation between Impa and Kyra.

Many eyes turned to Impa for a verdict but Kyra kept her gaze on the pasty man until a clear line of sweat could be seen forming on his upper lip. The Master had already made her position perfectly clear.

“She is the wielder of the Triforce of Courage and a Trainer at this camp. Why shouldn’t she be here, High Clerk Boaz?” The Master Sheikah raised a poised brow at the offender. Kyra almost grinned. Regardless of heartache or fatigue, Impa was a force to be reckoned with. She’d deftly maneuvered the conversation so that the unfortunate man had to either bring up Kyra’s heritage or bow down graciously. Either would set a president.

High Clerk Boaz spluttered for a moment looking indignant and Kyra saw with forbearance which way he was going to go before he even spoke.

“Well it’s obvious! She could be a Gerudo spy, this could all be a huge mistake—”

“Are you saying the Goddesses made a mistake? That’s blasphemy Boaz!” Yansan said, always devote, butted in.

Many voices joined in and the conversation devolved from there into a very animated discussion.

Across the tent, Kyra noticed Impa covertly roll her eyes. The other Sheikah masters present seemed to eye the proceeding argument with just as much disdain, though none seemed very partial to Kyra’s side either.

“Enough.” Impa said quietly, her voice somehow magnified so all heard it clearly.

The tent silenced.

“Kyra’s parentage is inconsequential. The Goddesses chose her and therefore we will award her the same respect and distinction that we did Link. Understood?” That eyebrow raise again. There was no doubt it had a serious effect on the room at large. Kyra had to learn how to do that. 

There was a lot of grumbling and some concerted coaxing from Impa before the conversation begrudgingly turned to other topics. Once it was obvious she would be staying, Kyra crossed her arms and leaned back against a sturdy tent pole, resigning herself to picking what useful tidbits she could from the cantankerous discussion. Which mostly consisted of winning about how this breach in tradition was possible, with some disingenuous lamenting about the loss of their monarch and hero sprinkled in there to add even more petulance to the already sorry excuse for a discussion. 

Kyra shook her head. 

Distantly, with the familiarity of one who constantly lives outside, Kyra noted that the air smelled of rain and there was the sound of distant thunder behind the murmuring of human voices. The storm was close.

Kyra adjusted her stance, allowing the conversation to wash over her without really taking part. Then a comment caught her attention.

“How, with all the Sheikahs technology and gadgetry and advancement did you fail to protect the Princess in her time of need, failed to even warn of Ganon’s coming.” Said the same ill tempered man as before. Boaz, Impa had called him. In her homeland, the man’s repellent words and insulting tone would have been enough to earn him a swift punch to the gut and temporary explosion from the war tent.

Here, men like Boaz seemed to get promoted.

Since the camps inception, and for the subsequent years following, the princess had been exiled to the castle, guarded by only a small tertiary contingent, and the Hero, for these two months in the summer. An arrangement that had been not only agreed upon by all parties involved but was also accused by some as being excessive. All that was now forgotten in the face of the attack.

Many accusations of negligence where thrown around and those were mainly directed at the Sheikah's growing technological advances. The leading Hylains gathered here feared it. Kyra could see it in there eyes. People always feared that which they didn’t understand. But there was something else there. Was that a flash of longing on a knight’s face when he spoke of the new machinery? Kyra observed sharply as the conversation began to lean towards unsettling territory.

“Sheikah technology is expanding so fast that very few, even among your own people, know how to use it to its full potential and even less are applying it to anything but scientific pursuits.” High Clerk Boaz’s face wrinkled in exaggerated derision. It seemed this man gained influence by saying the most egregious things the loudest. Many were nodding along at his comments.

“Now is the time for that change. The Sheikah researchers should turn their minds to weapons of war.” He finished triumphantly, eyes resting on the Sheikah matriarch. Despite having only minutes before been fearfully condemning new machinery, many Hylains in the room were nodding their heads at the suggestion. 

Kyra paled to think what destruction Sheikah weapons could wreck on her mother's people.

Judging by the look of utter contempt and exhaustion on her face, Impa was not keen on the idea either. “Now is not the time for such discussion. And you, Boaz, have absolutely no say in what me and mine do with our technology. And of discussion.”

That was not the end of the discussion.

Instead of focusing on the rising clamor, Kyra looked inward, feeling the odd mental stretch of reaching for another's mind with her own. From Link, she felt no accusation or practicality on the topic. He didn’t blame the Sheikah for a loss he seemed to carry fully on his own shoulders. All she felt from him was a kind of resigned sympathy for Impa and the lingering confusion as to Zelda’s situation.

Finally having enough, Kyra slipped soundlessly from the meeting tent and into the narrow lane between tents. She couldn’t imagine living in Master Impa’s position.

Glancing up and down the deserted lanes, Kyra stopped to think for a moment. The hard part of her current task was over. Now she just had to wait. And if she was going to be at the campe for a while longer, she might as well do her job.

So Kyra began to weave through the sea of tents just as the sons’ pleasant warmth left her back and she glanced up. Dark clouds turned quickly overhead and the air smelt sharp and earthy. She smiled at the prospect of the cleansing rain. Even after all these months back in the land of regular rainfall, the sight and smell still quickened her pulse with excitement.

Striding purposefully, Kyra sought out the swordsmanship arena, were the class she usually helped with at this time was being held. The air was teaming with shouts and the dull thud of wood striking wood. Trainers wandered about, giving direction where needed, while an older knight looked on. Kyra liked that about teaching here. It was a group effort. And one of the older more experienced knights was always around to supervise and give wisdom.

“Kyra, I didn’t expect you today.” Master Auru’s grave face was slightly inquisitive where he stood at the opening of the arena.

“I’ll be staying for the time being.” Kyra said curtly, trying to ignore the many lowered weapons and distracted stares that were aimed toward her from the students.

Auru just nodded, “Alright. Get to it then.” He held out a blunt wooden cleaver and Kyra took it gratefully. Bless the man’s curt efficiency. He asked no questions and the Gerudo woman moved off.

Avoiding several projectiles as she walked, Kyra pointedly ignored the intense animosity that was directed at her and instead focused on lunging stances.

Attitudes towards herself had worsened significantly in a day. 

Yesterday, the trainees had been routinely difficult. Alternating between grumblings about her incompetence, trying to strike her or simply ignoring her altogether. Those were actions rooted in generations worth of animosity and she was used to ignoring that.

Now they looked at her as though she were a demonic wretch bent on stealing them from the path of righteousness and into the den of heathens. That is to say, they looked at her with a combination of fear, loathing and jealousy.

Besides a weary resignation, Kyra felt nothing over the children’s worsened attitudes. Though… there was a little more sadness tingeing her indifference now. It had seemed like some of them were becoming less scared, more open towards her. 

Adding to the day’s grievances, her body was still incredibly sore from her impromptu marathon and she had pulsing headache behind her left eye. When was the last time she’d drunk water?

Large drums set out to collect fresh rainwater were located under the eves of the arena and Kyra slowly made her way towards them, adjusting stances with the spare practice sword as she went.

She was almost to the edge, almost to the water, when a rather well aimed knife was pitched at her torso. Kyra could hear it whistling through the air. A real weapon. A threat. Maybe it was the fatigue or the general air of discontent around her or even lingering frustration from the command tent but Kyra reacted fiercely. Instinct took over and instead of simply dodging Kyra snatched the thin hunters knife from the air and spun around, dropping into a crouch and hefting the weapon for a return throw. It all happened in less than a heartbeat and Kyra could distinguish the boy who’d thrown it by his stance and the tilt of his arm.

She squatted, ready and waiting for the next assault but the startled twelve-year-old who’d attacked her didn’t seem like he was ready to follow up the strike. The arena was anxiously silent. Far too many had noticed the brief exchange. Kyra could hear her heart beating in her chest. It was echoed faintly by the rumblings in the sky.

With a huff, the warrior stood, letting the excitement for a potential fight bleed away as quickly as it had come.

Twirling both weapons, the knife and the wooden sword, Kyra approached the young would-be-assailant. He eyed her with heightened fear and distrust, his breath coming in little pants.

“Never throw a weapon unless you’re prepared for your enemy to use it against you.” She said sternly looking down at him, repeating words she’d heard from her father years before. 

The boy’s panicked eyes followed her as she took his limp hand. He tried to jerk away but all she did was place the worn hunting knife back into it.

“Lucky for you, I’m not an enemy.” The warrior said quietly then turned her back and made straight for the water barrels. She really needed a drink.

The atmosphere in the arena was muted as the trainees returned to their stances. Link remained quiet. Once again, his presence was a calming balm to an aching wound.

She dipped a palm into the barrel before her and took a few long, cool drafts, taking long deliberate breaths in between. Then she turned around to face the arena again and found, as she looked at them, she wasn’t ready to intermingle again. Instead she moved back under the meager shelter of the wooden walls. Leaning up against a support post, a quiet sigh escaped Kyra at the impossibility of the situation she was in. “ _ They just don’t know better. Can’t hate them for being ignorant, love. We’ll show’em. Someday.” _ Her father would say when, as she grew older, people started to notice she wasn’t just a redheaded Hylian.

Memories of her father’s wise words were accompanied, as usual, by the sounds of horse hooves on gravel, leather stretching and pulling and tackle bouncing soothingly as they traveled from town to town so he could find work. Mercenary some called him. For, out of necessity, they had traveled almost continuously, keeping a low profile, quietly serving as protection to caravans traveling along the border. 

Well, he had. Kyra had mostly trained. Dressed as a boy with short cropped hair had helped her blend in to a degree and she could run around in the dirt and play with other lads her age. Some adults still knew, of course, the border folks were a wary, thoughtful folk by nature. Most likely due to the harsh landscape they managed to eek a living out of. In most towns, her lineage inevitably became a point of contention. But by that time, her father was already ready to move on. A nondescript, neutral party. 

And so they named him a mercenary.

Much like with her, none saw him for what he truly was: a kind and patient father, and a damn good swordsmen. He was the one who had convinced her to come instruct at this very camp in the first place. Said it would do her good to work with people she didn’t have to hide from, people who knew the truth. 

Kyra sighed slowly, still leaning her shoulder against the wooden frame of the overhang. Rain started to fall, slowly dampening the ground in little patches while the trainees continued on in the fine mist. The barrel in front of her became peppered with small ripples. 

It would be easier  _ by far _ to live among her own people but that was no longer an option. This was the path she’d chosen. And no matter the malice, the opposition, she faced here in Hyrule, it was worth having a clear conscience. 

Kyra would maintain her composer. She would endure. And she would do it gratefully. 

And someday, maybe her daughters and her granddaughter’s daughters would have the option to live outside the dessert without fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter felt a little slow to me but hopefully it will still be enjoyable :)
> 
> Thanks to everyone how has followed this story!


	7. Chapter 7

_Dante_

The voice in his head sighed dramatically. If she were a real woman, he could picture her massaging her temples in frustration. " _Speed is of the utmost importance at this point."_

Dante grinned. A river skiff traveled much slower than an ocean running vessel and the Princess was obviously unsatisfied with the pace. "This is the fastest way down river." He responded amiably. An occasional breeze tossed short sandy hair off of his forehead as Dante stood at the edge of the deck, surveying the passing and unfamiliar landscape. Rolling hills passed slowly by as evening faded, cool and slow, into night. The flat plains made it easy to see the sun as it dipped leisurely over the horizon.

The ocean was long gone and the air smelled clean and crisp along the river, without even a hint of salt to lend familiarity to Dante's nose. Having never traveled far from the sea, the sailor was surprised at the overwhelming longing he felt to turn around and head straight back to it. He found himself wistfully daydreaming about the next expedition he had been planning with Beedle. It would require sailing into an uncharted archipelago far to the east of Castle Town. Rumor had it, the islands were the seat of an ancient Zora culture and Dante desperately wanted to explore the area for himself.

Of course he had to survive long enough to get back there.

There was still no news from the Castle after the take over. Beedle, on top of looking after Midna and the shipment, had promised to send word to Dante if even a whisper of news was heard.

So far, nothing.

Which couldn't be good, but thank the Goddesses Beedle was not only competent and well connected but willing to risk his prised falcon exchanging messages with Dante. There was no one else the young captain could have trusted with this secret, let alone with his sister. It had been that way since they'd first met. Dante, fifteen, shrimpy and fiercely determined and Beedle not yet thirty and already a major player in the game of political trade.

Of course he had told Beedle the truth, the discerning man would accept nothing less and Dante needed someone in Castle Town who knew the reality of the situation, as crazy as it might be. And, though it was hard to admit, having someone else to confirm that, yes he probably wasn't crazy, was a huge weight off his shoulders.

Unfortunately, that weight was immediately replaced by this ambiguous psychological connection. They'd only been traveling for two days but Zelda and by proxy Dante—because apparently they had to share all of their emotions all the time now—was antsy. It wasn't awful, per say. Dante just wished there was literally any other way to communicate with Zelda other than having to be in  _constant emotional contact_  with her.

His head has always been just that. His. Sharing thoughts and especially emotions felt alien and wrong. Zelda, thankfully, seemed to be a rather analytical creature like himself and was not overly profuse with her experiences. Still… there was something inherently perverse about brushing up against someone else's personal and most intimate feelings, either through intention or simply from bumbling around trying to find where Dante now ended and Zelda began.

What bothered him most was that he had no idea how the connection worked. How far did it extend? How much could she see? How much could he hide?

"Do you have any idea who the new Hero will be?" Dante asked idly. Or at least that was what he was trying to project while subtling hiding his agitation deep inside. Dense willow shrubs passed slowly by on the bank and their light silvery leaves contrasted sharply with the dark green cattails and rushes growing directly out of the water.

" _There are many warriors of renown in Hyrule. Impa, Auru, Ashi, Shan, just to name a few. Though somehow… I think the 'new hero', as you say, will most likely be someone I've never met. Someone with a special kind of courage."_ She said the last fondly and Dante knew she was thinking of her friend and partner.

"And Link? Will he also be, ah, a companion to the new hero?" Dante leaned down, putting weight into his elbows and draping them comfortably onto the deck railing. Could she tell he was hiding something from her? Maybe he should just ask her.

" _It seems likely. There are a number of differentiating factors between our deaths but occurrences afterword usually coincide. That is to say, what happens to one usually happens to the other, if sometimes in a somewhat delayed fashion. It's possible the new vessel is in a vastly different age bracket or that Link was returned to the Heavens… but I think not. Wisdom, Power and Courage cannot exist solitarily in the physical world for long without the other two. And the same goes for the spiritual. Together, we provide balance. Mutual foils to the others strengths and weaknesses._ "

Dante didn't know how to respond to that. It all seemed so grand: lofty concepts and obscure ideological systems leading to uncertain conclusions. The young Captain rubbed at his forehead in mild frustration. It was difficult to focus on covering his true emotions. He thought they were bleeding through tiny cracks in the barriers he'd erected between them.

"It seems like there is no rhyme or reason to what the Goddesses do with the Triforce."

" _Perhaps if we were omnipotent divinities, their actions would become clearer_." Zelda said with evident amusement. " _I have nothing but foggy impressions from my past lives but as it is, the annals of Hyrule show consistent and timely arrivals of all three Triforce pieces to Hyrule. Our presence and actions leading up to this generation have ultimately resulted in peace and balance. After whatever tumult Ganon caused, of course_." She added with a note of bitterness. Dante wasn't sure whether her ire was directed towards the Goddesses or Ganon or her own failings _._  Either way, she was being very open about her feelings now and Dante let his attempted barriers fall away completely. Perhaps there were some things he could hide from her, but it would take an awful lot of concentration.

" _In any case, the Goddesses know exactly what they're doing. They always do. It's us that must do better to avoid bloodshed."_ It was odd to hear something so pious coming from someone who was normally so logically minded.

"What if the Goddesses just stopped sending any of the Triforce pieces back to earth? Wouldn't that also lead to balance, without the bloodshed?" Masking his emotions was probably something that could be done in small, isolated cases. Trying to do it for too long had given him a headache.

" _The presence of the complete Triforce enriches the land. At least, that's what the lore tells us, but that is a gross oversimplification. The life of Hyrule comes from the Triforce, our joy, our suffering, our trees and rocks. None of it would be possible without the Triforce."_ There was earnestness to her voice that he hadn't heard before _._ Dante couldn't help but imagine her in front of a room of rapt children, explaining the secrets of the universe.

The young captain didn't respond for a while.

Despite his devout mothers best efforts, he had never believed in the Goddesses. Brutality, poverty, death and disease… these were common in every part of the world he'd seen. People said you could avoid pain through prayer but Dante had never actually  _seen_  that work. What he had seen was mindless violence and some very, very, few people who chose to take responsibility for their actions and do something of value. A select few who would strive to change things themselves instead of praying for change to occur miraculously.

Though with all the inexplicable events occurring right on top of him, Dante might have to revise his outlook a bit. He smiled ironically. Storms, there was tangible evidence right on his hand, hidden still be a meager strip of cloth. Not to mention the woman in his head. But if he didn't focus on that… Dante was actually rather excited by this new turn of events. After some deep thought, it had occurred to him that he was the next chapter in history. Whatever happened next depended on his actions.

That was a lot of responsibility but the payoff… So much would be available to him if he succeeded, so many opportunities. Trade routes, ancient tomes, magical artifacts, he would have access to knowledge undreamt of in his youth.

And all he had to do was defeat the reincarnation of pure evil. Easy. Something like a rueful grin spread across his face and Dante gripped the wood of the ship's railing with callused hands. He could make this work. He had to.

"We must have a pretty good chance or they wouldn't have chosen me. Right?"

He didn't realize he had mumbled this out loud until Zelda's answering flare of amusement told him so. " _Yes, well, now that you've finally decided I'm not a figment of your imagination. I'd say that, yes, we do have a pretty good chance._ "

* * *

 

_Kyra_

* * *

 

Rain pelted down and fierce cracks of lightening thundered overhead as Kyra sprinted from the arena. Sessions would complete early today and students were to meet at a temporary rain shelter currently being erected. And someone had to run to all the different locations where lessons were being held to relay that information. Kyra had volunteered. 

Last stop was the lake itself. Kyra’s worn leather boots sank into the mud when she finally halted, panting slightly, on their little sandy beach. Bedraggled trainees where finding what meager shelter they could underneath the massive, drooping branches of the Willow trees that lined the shore.

“WHERE’S YOUR TROOP LEADER?” Kyra shouted to them through the noise of the storm.

A few of the boy’s pointed out onto the water, where advanced trainees could usually be seen learning small boat maneuvers and the oars, but Kyra couldn’t make out any of the familiar blue hulls in the rain.

Right.

Blinking rainwater out of her eyes, Kyra waded into the lake as a few canoes straggled into shore. She counted boats. There were only eight on shore, including the two that were currently being dragged in. That meant there were still four out on the water.

Taking a deep fortifying breath, Kyra dove into the frigid water and struck out towards the center. 

It was so much colder than she’d expected. Her bones and joints ached and the flesh of all her old injuries flared in protest at the contact with cold water. “How could it have… gotten so cold so fast?” She chattered out to Link, part of her feeling like she must be exaggerating and the other part worrying that some of her appendages were going to fall off.

“ _ I’m not sure… I know the Zora will open up their canals if they grow to full from rain and ice melt in springtime. Maybe that’s all it is. _ ” He didn’t sound too certain but then again, Kyra didn’t have a better explanation. She kept swimming. 

Two more boats materialized out of the haze. They weren’t paddling. It looked like they were trying to haul something up out of the water. Diving again, the Gerudo swam like an eel under the waves and camp up close to the two canoes. They were trying to pull someone up out of the water without being capsized themselves as arrant waves struck the craft. Kyra swam over, grabbed the waterlogged boy’s tunic and heaved him into the vessel which one trainee had been attempting to stabilize while the other was pulled at the floundering boys arms.

Once the errant boy was settled, Kyra shouted, “BACK TO SHORE.” pointing in the right direction in case they couldn’t hear.

They moved off without a word. Her body was on fire with the cold. It crept into her bones, the soles of her feet, making everything numb and achy. Treading water and blinking profusely in the downpour, Kyra scanned the area, trying to locate the last two ships. There! One boat was lagging behind the other and seemed to have just one trainee in it.

Kyra struck out, aiming for the lagging vessel.

Poor kid, paddling alone in a two-man vessel was grueling. He was straggling behind the others by a wide margin when Kyra reached his canoe. Blonde hair was plastered to his head, shoulders hunched as he stalwartly paddled the last half-mile to shore.

The day’s events must have been catching up with her because Kyra didn’t even bother getting out of the water. She just placed a hand on the back of the boat and started pushing. There was a lurch as the crafts speed increased and trainee looked back in shock. He hadn’t seen her approaching.

Fury washed away the exhaustion on his face, “I don’t need  _ your _ help.” He spit through clenched teeth with what seemed like more vehemence than she normal evoked. Kyra wondered whom he’d lost in a Gerudo raid. She didn’t respond except to keep pushing the boat. The trainee growled in frustration then redoubled his rowing efforts, presumably to rid himself of her presence as soon as physically possible.

Despite the protests of her body, Kyra propelled them forward until they could hear the rough scrapping of gravel against the canoe bottom. The Gerudo dragged her leaden limbs out of the water and helped to pull the boat all the way out and onto the bank, ignoring the angry glare from its owner. All around Kyra could see formless blobs, struggling to haul their own canoes up under the large drooping willow trees. Many boys had given up dragging the vessels further and had tossed them haphazardly in the grass before sprinting for the safety and warmth of the rain shelter.

She moved to lift the craft with the angry boy and he snarled at her, “I didn’t ask for your help and I don’t need it!”

Kyra hesitated. Now that his safety was assured, perhaps she should back off, so as not to escalate the situation further. Letting go of the haul ropes, she watched the angry boy struggle and drag his canoe a few meters up the slope before abruptly dropping the tether and looking at her in disgust, as if this were all her fault. The boy growled again and stormed off, his figure quickly becoming lost in the rain.

Rolling her eyes, Kyra stepped forward and lifted the canoe on her own, grunting as the weight settled on her. The tree where the canoes belonged was close. The Gerudo warrior slogged over, ducking under the canopy into a welcomingly protected area. Winds had shaken loose many long narrow leaves from the branches above and the ground was littered with them. Here, after letting her burden down, Kyra found one last trainee.

Colin was soaked to the bone and trembling, a timid smile on his face. “Thank you for saving me. If you hadn’t been there, I might have drowned. I’m not a very good swimmer.” He grinned sheepishly and Kyra found her lips turning up in response.

She hadn’t realized it was Colin she’d rescued. What a wonderful feeling to know someone she helped had actually appreciated it. His watery blue eyes gazed at her in something like adoration or maybe it was just relief. 

“I thought I was done for.” He went on with a sniff, wiping at his nose with the back of a hand.

“Come on,” she said lifting an arm towards him and nodding to the shelter. “Let’s get you fed and warm.”

At her words, Colin’s eyes began to spell over and he dashed to her, wrapping skinny arms around her torso in a tight embrace.  Kyra held intensely still, not even breathing.

Every heartbeat sounded loud in her ears.

Outside rare embraces from her father, Kyra had never allowed another Hylian to hug her. Presumably, none had ever wanted to, either.  His unanticipated affection was a torrent of rain on a parched desert cacti. She found herself soaking in the warmth, so refreshingly different from how everyone else treated her.  She wanted to enfold him in her arms but was afraid to poke him with her spines, do something wrong. It wasn’t often a cactus saw rain after all. 

Yet he held fast, making no move to step away. So, hesitantly, she rested a hand to his damp locks and pat his head a few times in what she hoped was a reassuring gesture. 

It must have been the right thing to do because he looked up at her with that beaming smile of his before pulling away. “Ok now we can go.” He said shyly, sniffing and hastily scrubbing at his face.

It was such a genuine moment, full of childish sincerity and comfort. It felt too good to be true. Kyra couldn’t help the warmth and happiness that bubbled up in her like water in a spring. She smiled, big and full and he grinned back, seeming pleased. 

Together, they moved out from under the canopy of the trees and ran for the shelter.


	8. Chapter 8

_ Ganon _

* * *

 

The Castle was in pristine condition, glimmering as the sun wavered above the horizon. Memories from his previous incarnations were hazy at best but Ganon could recall several centuries when Castle Town was far less prosperous than it was at the moment. In fact, the whole kingdom seemed to be faring rather better than he had been expecting after his years of isolation. 

Satisfaction pumped in his vienes, invigorating him like a drug. 

How auspicious. Hyrule was ripe for the conquering and he had never been better positioned to take it by the throat.

“Reports are in, Sire.” Brisk voice with only a slight tremor of fear… Ganon’s newest acquisition was at the archway of his private balcony. Without turning his back on the city, the Gerudo motioned for the Sheikah warrior to step forward and join him at the white marble railing.

Izeme was not only efficient and capable, but the woman had already been rather high in the Shekiah hierarchy so her leading the spy network and castle guard for him now felt natural. She was slightly older than him, maybe in her late thirties, with a permanent frown between her pale white brows. Though, that look could simply be the result of her proximity to him.

“No signs indicate the other vessels have been reborn yet. No whisper or faint rumor in any of the rural villages, though a more thorough reconnaissance is being conduct here in Castle Town and in Kakariko as instructed.”

Eyes still surveying the city below, Ganon extended his senses and strained to pick out the nuances of her emotional energy, an energy that all living things gave off. 

With power and energy as his domain, his childhood playground, his Goddess given birthright,  Ganon had discovered early on that people gave off energy in conjunction with distinct passions. And if he focused his mind, he could detect spikes of that energy that hinted at the flavor of their emotions.

At the moment—although her stance was at military rest, hands clasped behind the back and feet spread casually—the normally unflappable compander had an anxious tension swirling about her. Akin to the tension and fear he’d sensed in her the very first night. 

Out of the ordinary for a basic report. 

“What else?” He asked quietly.

“Nothi—” Her voice choked off as Ganon closed her throat with a simple spell.

He sighed.

“I wasn’t  _ planning _ on killing any more of your people but if you lie to me again, the little one who clung to you so tightly the night of my arrival… will die before the sun sets.” He finally turned to look her in the eye. The red depths contained a combination of fear and fury and impulsively flicked over to the setting sun which was already casting long shadows on the castle walls.

To her credit, the woman didn’t flinch when he released the spell. Her breathing was only slightly labored as he stepped in close. However, height was a large factor in close quarters intimidation and he could almost hear her heartbeat quicken as he looked down on her by at least a foot.

“What else?” He asked again, more quietly than the first time. Ganon had noticed a long time ago that quiet, gentle threats were often far more effective than angry shouting.

One simply had to allow time.

Izeme swallowed, “A runner from the camp was found near Hylia Lake.” The Sheikah were loathed to part with information in normal circumstances and judging by this one's clenched jaw and shaking fists, what was coming would be useful indeed. Ganon had known the order to kill on site would be a difficult one for the Sheikah to follow.

He waited silently, knowing his physical proximity was enough prompt her to continue.

Again, to her credit, she didn’t tremble when she looked him in the eye. “On my orders, we let him go.”

Ganon smiled indulgently, “How very noble. But you and I both know you weren’t contacted in time to give such instructions.”

Apprehension washed over the hard lines of her face. Often, he didn’t even need to probe a person's energy to know what they were feeling. Faces were like a blank canvas being constantly washed over and colored with new emotions. Right now, her’s said his guess was spot on. 

“Rest assured, the appropriate Sheikah will be punished.”

“Please—”

“Someone close to you, perhaps?” Ganon said carelessly, releasing her from his gaze and moving back to place his hands on the smooth marble railing. “Is that why you’re so desperately trying to shoulder the blame?” She said nothing but it didn’t really matter.

“They too, can avoid death… if you tell me the information that was relayed to you through the runner that was released.” He offered blandly, his back to her. For all the world looking like someone discussing the sale of fruit rather than the trading of lives.

Izeme’s energy abruptly plummeted to a place that Ganon had come to recognize as hopeless terror. Sooner or later, people under him usually felt that emotion and for this woman, it meant that his guess had again been correct. Her worry and fear were about more than just the lives of two scouts who had failed to consult her before making a foolhardy decision. They had learned something from the arrant runner. 

Most likely, it involved the whereabouts of their late monarch.

Ganon allowed himself a small grin. Even while he shook his head at the foolish Sheikah penchant for irrational loyalty.

Abruptly, he spun around and grabbed her by the upper arms, not enough to bruise but hard enough to jolt her into a response. “Where is Wisdom?” He demanded.

“We—we don’t know.” She blurted out, “The scout only said that it was a surprise, the person who had the Triforce, I mean. They didn’t even know if it was Wisdom or Courage, only that one of them is at the Hyrule Training Camp.” The woman’s face had started in fear but had quickly shifted back into hard, angry lines again. Surprise and hatred dominated the color of her energy. 

Gerudo magic was archaic and little understood, even by his own people. And even after all these years, Ganon still wasn’t sure how much of his magical power originated from his blood and how much from the Triforce. 

Regardless, it was unexpected for a Gerudo to know so much. They were so rarely seen outside the desert and were known far more famously for their warmongering than for their art or music or intelligence. Ganon understood this and knew well how their assumptions could be used to startle and intimidate.

Disorienting them enough to spill information was only the beginning.

 

* * *

“We’re here!” Dante exclaimed, throwing his body up onto the railing and clasping a rope near his head for balance.

The river spit them out into the main body of the lake just as the sun reached its zenith. It was a perfect day to be on the water. Coniferous trees lined the near shore and the far shore to the east was completely out of site. The large expanse of water was far less tangy here than on the ocean. Dante could even see the bottom in some spots, blue green and shimmering in the sunlight. Though the lake was deep, it was still bright and clear and home to impressively large fish that swam languidly beneath the surface.

“ _ Finally. Remind me to instigate infrastructure designs for inter-province travel when we return.” _ Dante grinned, imaging what that be like, traveling from one and of Hyrule to another with ease. What vessels would they use? It would alter trade roots immensely, dependin—

Something about what she said clanked into place inside his head like gears in a clock.

“Wait, when we return… to the castle? Together? Do you plan on ruling through me? Who’s next in line for the throne? That could be messy. It doesn’t  _ have _ to be Wisdom, right?” The idea of being locked in an office, however opulent, signing papers for the rest of his life, had Dante mildly claustrophobic and babeling.

“ _ Well, Wisdom ruling would be ideal.”  _ He could almost see an elegant eyebrow rise _. “But if the idea is that abhorrent to you, am sure we can discuss several options. Though I would, at the very least, need to be involved in some administrative capacity. I will not abandon the kingdom completely _ .” Her tone was first conceding then firm.

For a heartbeat, Dante couldn’t respond.

“That’s… s—so reasonable.” Dante stuttered in disbelief. Compromises so superlative were only proposed willingly when some sort of diabolical strings were attached to the agreement. He couldn’t imagine the apparition in his head had any motivation to be scheming against him but… and yet… the idea that the monarch of Hyrule was sympathetic to his position and willing to make concessions because of it was faintly ridiculous. Perhaps that feeling was merely a product of his low birth and upbringing.

“ _ Why so stunned?”  _ She actually chuckled. _ “Did you forget your speaking to the once living incarnation of Wisdom? I’m a pragmatist and a diplomat. Forcing someone into a position that they’re uncomfortable with or unsuited for is not a conducive environment for the growth or enrichment of a nation. We’ll find a situation that works for both of us.” _

She’d picked up on his shock so easily. He hadn’t even felt her. Were the lines between them so easily blurred? He wanted to ask but at the same time was afraid to. 

“I guess I’m used to working with cantankerous wharf men, who’d just as soon sell you as trade with you. Anything to make a rupee.” It was hard to mistrust someone who the Goddesses themselves had deemed the most wise in the land. And yet, something nagged at Dante. A hesitance he didn’t quite understand. 

“ _ Yes I have been rather curious about that. You rose to prominence in the shipping community with stunning speed and there is little information about you from before the time you started working with Beedle _ .”

Dante squinted, recalling with uninvited clarity, childhood memories of looking up into the gap-toothed grin of cons on the dock, Rhamnus leaves staining the last of their teeth, the stink of desperation clogging the air. Not all that different from other dangerous neighborhoods in Castle Town, just more possibilities. And a fresher breeze. 

It hadn’t been quick at all. It had taken many grueling years of distasteful, thankless jobs to even be allowed near the books he had used to raise himself up from poverty. Years more after that to convince, cajole and con his way into Beedle’s presence.

He had gotten lucky of course, that the illustrious trader had taken a liking to him, that he’d even survived long enough to get there.

“You knew about me?” Dante finally asked.

“ _ We probably would have met soon enough, I imagine. Your foreign trade and exploration in conjunction with the artifact recovery that you’re last two expeditions have yielded identified you as a very beneficial asset to the kingdom. _ ”

It sounded like she was referring to Hylian grain exports—not an actual person—and Dante snorted. Many of the things she said sounded like formal reports, impersonal and precise.

Silence fell between them and Dante allowed himself to relax into the warm breeze that ruffled his clothes and hair as he sat on the wooden railing, out of the way. The shouting of the sailors a reassuring clamor nearby. Up in the rigging, crewmen scurried about loosening knots and unfurling the sail now that the  _ Windsoar _ was on open water.

They’d been able to see telltale fingers of smoke rising into the air for some time before the massive camp came into view. Even with this warning, Dante was still shocked at the size. Hundreds of tents, large and small, crowded the near shore. And the lake itself was dotted with numerous little two and four man canoes.

There would be thousands of children here, hundreds of trainers and officials.

“How are we going to find him?” Dante asked, squinting out at all the children. Dante imagined countless Midna’s running about causing havoc, asking questions and ignoring instructions and he shook his head grinning, incredibly grateful that Beedle had agreed to keep an eye on her.

In the stories, the Hero always came back as a young blonde boy but, given the body Wisdom now resided in, the old legends no longer seemed like a reliable guidebook.

“ _ I’ve been considering that, actually, and I think our best option is to find Impa first. If Courage is anywhere close by, she’ll know.” _

“Impa.” Dante’s body stilled. “As in, the deadliest woman in the world,  _ Sheikah Master _ Impa?” He asked in mortification and terror.

Growing up in Castletown meant that Dante was acutely aware of the Sheikah commander’s fearsome reputation and, like all people regaled by superstition from a young age, he had a hard time picturing her as anything but a fearsome and ruthless authority. Adding to that, Dante hadn’t exactly kept his hands clean as a youngster. And a mortal fear of the Sheikah guard was a natural part of any thief’s life in Castle Town.

“How would we even convince her to meet with me?” He asked, his voice a little too high, unconsciously rubbing at his covertly wrapped hand in trepidation. 

“ _ I can instruct you in all the passcodes and emergency phrases. It won’t be a problem _ .”

She didn’t seem to notice that the former thief would really rather it  _ would _ be a problem.

Splashing and yelling and all the noises children make when they’re mock fighting drifted up to the larger riverboat and Dante attempted to fall back into his lounging position atop the railing. Distracting himself by imagining Midna wreaking havoc in a setting like this. 

She was already picking up knife throwing from the  _ Hourglass’s  _ first mate Senza… and the first thing Beedle had done when he’d met the little girl was teach her how to pickpocket. So the physical aspects wouldn’t be a challenge for her. Though, Dante reflected ruefully, those skills might be difficult to translate to more wholesome talents. It really would be good for her to spend times with kids her own age. Dante was starting to notice how different she was from other children. Eyes too serious and disdainful for a nine-year-old. And it was his fault. 

After everything he’d been through, Dante found it impossible to deny her the same opportunities he would have killed for at her age. It was—

“Come lad, we’ll let you off in the rowboat with the first round of supplies.” The captain of the riverboat, Gan, approached Dante with a balanced stride. He was a weathered veteran of the river with wrinkled sun darkened skin and shrewd eyes. Dante imagined he was the kind of man who could drink young sailors under the table without batting an eye and show up for work the next day as if nothing had happened.

“Thank you,” Dante said easily  sliding off the railing and nodding to the man. “Captain, what’s the population size Hyrule bass in the Lake? I’ve read that the Zora hunt them in great numbers and Hylians do as well, with less success perhaps, and yet the population seems as robust as any I’ve observed. And even with the camp so close, they must be using fish as a staple food… ” He spoke without really meaning to. It was just something he’d been mulling over earlier that day to pass the time. He was also wondering about the supplies necessary to keep a came this size running and the logistical nightmare it must be to haul goods in so far to a temporary camp. 

But he stopped when he noticed the perplexed and semi indignant look Captain Gan was giving him. The older man started to walk and the two strode across the deck to where the rowboat was being prepared, “Folks fish the Lake, yes, but I wouldn’t know about numbers of such things.”

“Oh. Uhh-nevermind then. Forget I asked.” The young seafarer could feel heat rising to his face as the rowboat was slowly lowered. Dante schooled his features and forcibly restrained himself from rubbing the back of his neck—a habit Beedle had informed him gave away his age. Internally berating, Dante shook his head. He had spent years identifying the social cues that would keep him alive and he should have  _ known better  _ than to blurt out something so specific and expect anything but an insulted response.

Now that he stopped to think about it, Dante was a little surprised that Zelda hadn’t said anything. It wasn’t like her to remain silent while someone nearby was committing a social fopa.

He turned his mind inward, in what was now a disconcertingly familiar way, and found her distracted by something. Now that he was also paying attention, Dante could feel a tug, almost a pulsing, in his right hand. And it was growing incrementally stronger. Closer.

“ _ It’s Courage _ .” She said, with a high note of wonder and partially contained excitement in her voice. Neither had dared to believe it would be that easy, that the other Triforce piece would be here already, safe and equipped with the Goddesses mandate.

And since the riverboat was at a standstill, that meant that Courage must be coming to him.

* * *

 

Inhaling deeply, Kyra was about to dive under water again when she noticed a glow. A bright golden glow coming from her left hand as she raised it up out of the water.

“ _ She’s here! _ ” Link exclaimed, seemingly coming awake in his hopeful surprise.

Exercise immediately disregarded, Kyra spun around, splashing, scanning the water. Unfortunately, they were in a channel that separated the mainland from an island and Kyra couldn’t see much besides the other trainees and trainers. She could, however, sense something. It was a peculiar feeling, a pulling of her senses in the direction of the main body of the lake.

“They must be on a ship.” She murmured for Link’s benefit, remembering that a consignment of supplies was supposed to be arriving that day.

She could feel how much Link was straining in that direction, his spirit desperate to board that vessel and search every inch until Zelda was sitting safe and sound before him. Or at least, whatever body she was residing in. And for a moment Kyra considered swimming over there and boarding the vessel, allowing Link to finally reunite with his Princess. 

“We can’t…” Kyra clenched and unclenched her fists. “We can’t go over there now.”

“ _ What? _ ” The Heroes sole attention was on the insistent tugging in the Triforce that meant his partner was near.

Only the speed at which she was treading water gave away Kyra’s agitation. “On that ship, they don’t know me. If I were to board their vessel, there’s no telling what they would do. Only that it wouldn’t be friendly.”

It was if a gong was struck. She could feel Link’s energy settle immediately in realization. After a week of seeing the reactions her presence generally produced, he understood what she was talking about. Understood why his reunion would have to wait.

“We’ll go to them when she’s alone… or with Impa.” Kyra said quietly, trying to reassure him.

Link said nothing and they lingered for a moment more before Kyra resolutely turned her back on the pull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Beta this time :/  
> Hopefully it's not too bad but feel free to let me know,
> 
> Until next week!  
> JJS


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've officially caught up to previously written material and will now be writing new, without a Beta, so post will become less regular. But I'm gonna try to keep up the pace :)
> 
> As always, thanks for reading, and let me know what you think!

_Dante_

* * *

The tug persisted, achingly close yet untouchable, like an itch located exactly halfway down one's spine. It hovered distractingly on the edge of his conscious as Dante strode into camp and asked after one of the most influential woman in Hyrule.

Growing up on the streets of Castle Town, Impa and the rest of the Sheikah had always seemed like a commanding, shadowy symbol of the crowns might. With their secret technology and magic, the Sheikah were seen with something of a mix between reverence and terror. And Master Impa had hundreds of fabricated stories to go along with her already impressive real life accomplishments. It was said that her first steps lead her into a cave where she strangled a dozen pit vipers and that her succession from adolescent to adulthood was marked by the singular trouncing of thirty different opponents in a single fight. Of course, as he'd grown, the more outlandish stories became more obviously false.

Dante never imagined a positive scenario wherein he would meet the leader of the Castle Town Guard. All of his nightmares included cold stone and torture and the red Sheikah eye.

Zelda laughed when Dante repeated in a hushed tone some of the rumors he'd heard, " _Of course they say that. Impa is in a position of power and people always make up stories about those that rule them. Though, the thirty vs. one story is actually true. That was on her seventeenth birthday I believe, and they came at her in teams of two. What the gossips never mention is her whip smart sense of humor_.  _Or her kindness."_

"Thirty vs. one?" Dante mouthed soundlessly to himself as they he weaved through the ordered lanes of the camp surrounded by tents following behind a man in flowing yellow robes, which identified him as a Rupee supervisor for the crown.

The man had beady eyes, a poor temperament and had suspected Dante instantly. Squinting and scoffing even after the sandy haired young man had said the code words.

Zelda explained his name was Boaz Hassain, a rather abhorrent member of her staff that had retained his position through clever manipulation of the economy and familial ties. He was useful and the household was too important to insult by firing him simply because Zelda found him distasteful. " _Well to be honest, everyone finds him so, but Impa has always been able to keep him in line. Besides, it is good to hear from a perspective that is almost diametrically opposed to your own. It can open ones eyes to new possibilities._   _Even if you don't agree_."

Not wanting to appear crazy and having no good counter argument to that, Dante kept quiet.

They arrived at a large and busy pavilion and Boaz stepped forward imperially with Dante close behind.

"Master Impa, an audience has been requested." Boaz eyed Dante in distaste. "This brigand somehow knew the emergency keywords."

The tent was teaming with important looking people doing important looking things and beady eyes was addressing the rigid woman at the center of it all.

If hard steal were forged into a living statue, it would be this woman. All inflexible lines and perfect posture, she looked like she could bite a sword in half. When her red eyes landed on him, Dante froze.

Intimidation personified.

" _Oh do get a hold of yourself. She's on our side_."

"Yes?" The master asked stepping forward and giving Dante her attention.

He started sweating.

Zelda sighed in exasperation, " _Tell her, the baby's cradle has been robbed but the culprit has been found_." and Dante repeated the words aloud, infinitely grateful that he could speak without stuttering.

Master Impa's eyes widened perceptibly.

"Clear the tent." She ordered crisply with a voice magically magnified so the whole bustling tent could hear. And consequently freeing Dante from her gaze so he could take a wheezy breath.

The enclosure silenced immediately. Many shot surprised and curious looks his way but most differentially filed out. Impa nodded reassuringly to a few somber Sheikah that lingered before exiting.

As soon as they were alone, the older woman stepped closer and asked, "Zelda?" and for a moment Dante thought she was talking directly to the Princess inside him who perked up at the question.

"Is she alive?" The master continued, the natural pessimism of experience warring with undisguised hope on her face. It was a heart wrenching moment and the young man realized that he really did not want to disappoint this woman for multiple reasons now.

So he said the first falsely reassuring thing that came to mind.

"Not exactly…"

* * *

Kyra raced through camp, for the first time feeling displeased with the formerly ecstasy inducing isolation of her tent. Even running, it still took half an hour to reach her tent, rummage around for a set of dry clothes, change, and then race back to Impa's pavilion. Panting, Kyra arrived in time to see stragglers gathered in groups, roving uncertainly around the command tent, like sand dogs kicked out of the den.

Link was a ball of expectations and frayed nerves, straining towards the source of the pull that Kyra could feel clearer now, the closer she got to the command tent.

It had almost been two hours since she and Link had felt the arrival of the other piece and he was noticeably frustrated with her lack of haste. So strong were the emotions coming from him, Kyra had the feeling that nothing short of instantaneous transport would have been enough to satisfy him. The Gerudo slowed to a walk as she approached the two Sheikah at the door, partially to catch her breath and partially because the site of her running towards anyone was usually enough to entice the pointy end of a sword.

"The Master requested privacy." Shad said as soon as she approached. He was a taller Sheikah with a calming presence and intelligent eyes. Though right then they were wary and suspicious. Even after her time in Kakariko, many Sheikah still looked at her with the disdain of a knight forced into combat with a scullery maid.

She paused, considering. It would be most efficient to force entry. Impa would be made aware of her presence, which would no doubt be welcome in whatever conversation Wisdom and her were having and they could forego repeating information to her.

Or Kyra could wait until Impa inevitably sent for her and enter without causing a fuss with the Sheikah guards. Staying in their good graces was important to her for many reasons. They, more so than most Hylians, were generally willing to give her a chance. She couldn't reward that small faith with violence.

So—much to Link's dismay—Kyra backed away a few steps and clasped her hands behind her back in a stance both alert and technically at rest by military standards.

In her head, Link was a storm of forced calm, but thankfully, he respected her decision and said nothing. After the last week of her differing to other's decisions in most things, he was fairly used to it anyway.

Outward control hiding inner jitters, Kyra settled in to wait.

It was excruciating.

The pull was incredibly strong. Even without Link's bias, she wanted nothing more than to race inside and settle herself as close as possible to that twin source of power.

Helpfully, someone arrived almost immediately to divert her attention. A head with an unruly, dark black mop of hair peaked out from between the two tents on Kyra's right. The little girl squinted at the large command tent, eyes surprisingly calculated. The Gerudo kept her eyes forward, watching covertly as the small figure decided to approached. Tossing her dark hair out of her eyes, the little girl shoved her hands in deep pockets and sauntered up to Kyra with an easy stroll.

"Secret meeting going on in there, huh? What'd ya think they're talking about?" The little girl spoke with the casual dismissiveness of someone far beyond her age, body angled away from Kyra. Her eyes were on Impa's pavilion, feigning disinterest. However, she was rocking up and down at the balls of her feet in a restless gesture.

Kyra almost grinned.

There was no way this girl was from a rural homestead like most of the other children here. She was too clever by far. And the accent? It sounded northern. Furthermore, there was a complete lack of recognition or fear in the little girl's eyes. Most likely from a coastal city then, if she didn't know what Kyra was.

Emulating the girls casual air, the tall warrior lowered herself into a squat to get a better look. First thing she noticed was that the child had probably gone several days without a wash. Short, dark hair was knotted and grease while stains littered the front of her shirt and vest. What was left of her tan, baggy pants was also dotted with holes and stains. Her feet were bare. Kyra's eyebrows rose a fraction at that.

She looked like a sea rat, scrappy, unafraid. Still maintaining that casual air, her dark eyes wandered over to observe the warrior when she lowered herself. The black orbs were bright and mischievous and also somehow completely devoid of malice.

"You came on the supply boat." Kyra inferred.

The little girl didn't even blink "No I've just been working with the kitchen lads. You wouldn't have seen me before."

At that Kyra did smile. The girl was smooth. And experienced. It was an easy lie that would have worked on almost anyone less observant.

In a sharp movement, Kyra stood. Her gaze once again returning to the command pavilion. Tension turning in her belly and the constant pull from nearby made it difficult to focus on this new situation. Kyra ground her teeth wishing Link would offer some advice freely so she didn't have to ask out loud. Though unassuming and small, the girl was obviously intelligent and had the potential to be very dangerous. And unfortunately, there was no way to tell what her true intentions were sense she seemed determined to hide. It was possible she was sent here as a spy.

Then, startlingly, a strange metallic ringing pierced the air.

It was clamorous and echoing. Like the sound of glass shattering or a sword passing through a mirror.

* * *

"What is it?" Impa asked the moment Dante's head swiveled in the direction of the pull.

"Courage is close. Probably right outside." He told the Master Sheikah, feeling a thrill of excitement pulse through him at the prospect.

"Kyra." The older woman informed him firmly and Dante's face paled with the reminder of what he'd just learned.

A Gerudo.

A Gerudo in position of the Triforce of Courage.

The concept seemed at once both contradictory and somewhat fitting to Dante. Contradictory because the Gerudo were a people almost exclusively associated with the Triforce of Power. Fitting because the warrior women were widely known for their ferociousness in battle. Which was pretty close to courage.

Distantly, Dante supposed it wasn't any stranger than him, a beggar turned entrepreneur, being chosen for Wisdom. Yet the mental image of vicious, scantily clad raiders—formed by a lifetime's worth of gossip—clashed rather completely with the noble, green-garbed personage of Hyrule's Hero in his mind's eye.

" _Pfff. You were terrified of Impa because of the things you'd heard about her and now you see that she's not scary at all. This Kyra is no different_."

Not scary at all was stretching it a bit. Dante would say the steely woman was still mostly scary with a dash of motherly concern sprinkled in here and there to throw him off.

The Master in question drew his attention back to her again.

"She spent a significant amount of time in Kakariko this past year, training with us. I had my reservations at first… about her motivations for leaving the desert, about her presence in our lands… But those fears were unfounded. You'll see what I mean soon enough." The Sheikah master shook her head, almost in disbelief. "It will take time, generations perhaps, for our people to judge her's fairly, on their merits. It will take time and endorsement from those in positions of authority."

Impa's gaze, sharp and deadly as a hunting spear, pierced Dante to the core as the woman stepped closer. "If we recognize her legitimacy, it will force others to do the same. As the new barer of Wisdom, you will need to support her in this." The weight of her words bore down on him with a clear note of command.

Her insistence surprised him and gave Dante the impression that Impa had had to explain this concept to people many times before. There was a glint in her eye, something like a mother lion standing over its cub that Dante understood.

Dante threw his palms up in front of him and said, "Of course! I mean, you haven't even given me a chance to agree. I may be new to—to magic and the Triforce lore and…" He huffed in exasperation, briefly forgetting whom he was talking to as he swirled his hands around searching for words. "… and sudden, unexplained—and honestly questionable Goddess decisions—but one thing I've always known is that, where someone comes from has shit to do with what they're capable of."

Not his most eloquent speech but it was said in earnest. After spending years of his childhood trying to convince experienced sailors that a bedraggled sea urchin like himself could do more than swab the decks, Dante understood the disparity that Impa was talking about.

It had taken thousands of hours of scrimping, sneaking, lying and stooping for him to gain access to the treasure trove: a local archive of shipping documents and meticulously gathered climate data. Sequestered away in the unorganized shack, Dante had finally been able to educate himself, grasping at the knowledge like a drowning man clinging to the arrant debris of a ship. Finally, he could be more than just another street urchin bagging for spare rupees.

For two years—in addition to earning the money it took to survive—young Dante had painstakingly organized sheet after decrypted sheet of travel logs. Recordings of ocean swell regularity and seasonal storm occurrence where there, along with all manner of other useful information and instruments that had been gathering dust on their moldy shelves of the aging Dock Masters shack. Information that would be quietly used by Dante over the years.

At thirteen he had begun to make inferences about which voyages where most likely to succeed or fail, and then proceeded to invest appropriately. It was uncanny how often he was right. To Dante, the patterns in the old data were glaringly obvious but when he had started to invest more openly, most sailors just thought he was lucky in his guessing.

Dante felt no need to enlighten them.

Even after a decade of rather remarkable achievements, Dante still had to prove himself to new business partners all the time. Maybe that was just how trade worked. Maybe the rumors of his origins were impossible to escape and he would never live free of the shadow of his poverty.

Or maybe, he would become so successful and impressive that people would be too busy fawning over and adoring him to remember or care about his humble beginnings.

But that would come later.

Either way, he understood what it was to be judged on ones origins instead of actions.

The Sheikah master was still assessing him with narrowed eyes. Perhaps she knew some of his history, knew about the dubious legality of his rise to prominence. And perhaps she saw the raw earnestness in his brown eyes and decided that the honest sentiment was more important than the thievery because after a few, sweaty moments, she finally nodded and stepped back. Dante exhaled a breath of air he didn't know he'd been holding.

"We'll need to gather supplies for you're journey, I'll—"

The sharp twang of metal being pulled from a scabbard could be heard from outside.

Both froze in place, both all too familiar with that sound and its implications. Abruptly gesturing for him to stay still, Impa leaped forward to listen at the door.

" _Dante quick! Do you know any ancient Hylian?"_


End file.
